Blue Blood - Old
by Hayerim
Summary: Aren has been living in the streets for almost a year when she accidentally... levels a building. She then gets caught by weird people talking about obscurus, and muggles, and wizards ? [First chapter of rewrite out]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is my first attempt at a fanfiction. I have never before tried to make other people's character my own, and I would welcome any constructive feedback on this fic. Please keep in mind that I am not a native English speaker, and that this work is unbeta'ed as of yet.

Of course, I own nothing of what you recognise in this story.

Summarily edited as of 2017-12-25. Still looking for a potential beta. :P

* * *

Aimée Selwyn née Malfoi stared at the wailing bundle in the arms of the midwife. She was doing frantic math in her head, trying to deny the obvious evidence provided by the blue liquid sipping out of the white thing's umbilical chord. The child's clear skin and white hair could have been passed of as the Malfoy genes being particularly strong, if not for the fact that her eyes were a piercing blue, even on her scrunched-up face; but the most damning fact was that the child was obviously a blue blood.

It could not be, just. It could not. Anselme Selwyn was very much a pureblood, of verified ancestry, but she knew for a fact that he was not a carrier of the blue blood line. She was, but that meant that the daughter was not her husband's. She kept doing the math. There was but one option: a young man, obviously grieving, that she had left a Death Eater meeting with one day 9 months ago. The man had been drinking himself into a stupor, and Aimée had just been pawned of to Selwyn… One thing had led to another, and she had left in the morning. Luckily, her husband was away in France for business, and her absence had not be marked by anyone but her handmaiden, who would never tell on her.

She had the midwife give the babe to her handmaiden, then dismissed her. She exchanged a long look with her companion, and the girl acquiesced, then excited swiftly with her burden.

The midwife would be found dead two days later, and the child was not seen again; Aimée thought that she had had her throat cut out and would never hear of the thing again. Anselme was told that the child had been still-born, which was a common enough occurence in pureblood lines that it was not questioned.

In the suburbs of London, on the steps on a decrepit orphanage and in the cold night of early November, a baby wailed.

* * *

Phanes was sitting on her cot, once again having to find something cool to put on her arm to stop the newly-formed bruise to grow too visible. The matron was in a good mood this time: she had stopped herself after back-handing her only once, for trying to smuggle some bread out of the kitchen. Lucy had fallen ill two days before, and could not make it to meals. And that was without even considering risks of contagion which would make the matron throw her out of the room anyway. She still needed the food, though, and Phanes liked the little girl enough to try and help her. Fat lot of good that had done.

Out of ideas, she took the fraying casing of her pillow off and went to the faucet to wet it. She applied it to the darkening, hand-shaped bruise on her hand. It offered a striking (ha!) contrast with her small frame: the mark covered almost all of her upper arm. All the children in Lambeth orphanage were abnormally small in stature, due to the lacklustre meals they got and the taxing chores they all had to do.

Some of the children were allowed to go to school, and subsequently got out of some of the chores, but one grade under the "acceptable threshold" arbitrarily set by the matron meant a beating; another one meant being pulled out of school.

Phanes had been one of those. She gave little importance to that, though, as she much more cared about practical skills that would allow to keep the little ones safe - never mind that she was only 13-and-something herself. She had become rather adept at managing the kids in her dorm, which fell to her anyway since she was the oldest there. She still had to teach Nichol that eating whatever he found, food or not, was not a good idea, but well. The kid was three. Information of this sort didn't stick much at that age.

She was worried about what would happen in two days' time though. The Spurgeon Orphanage, in Stockwell, had just been close indefinitely following allegations of brutality and unsanitary conditions... as well as a couple of accusations aimed at the superintendent, that hinted at his liking little boy way too much to be sanctioned by authorities.

The orphans from Spurgeon's were being dispatched in several or the other orphanages of London, and they would apparently receive three children in two days. She just hoped it wasn't three kids under 13, and none would be between 13 and 15, because that would be hard to handle. Three tinies to get used to the place at once was just too much, even for her; and a kid older than her but still having to defer to her because she had seniority in the dorm might turn... gladiatorial.

She brought some more lukewarm water to Lucy to try to quell her thirst, then settled back At the foot of her bed, making sure her bruise received as little pressure as possible. She lay there, and sleep was long coming.

* * *

"Fey! Feyyy! FEY !"

"Omph!" Was all the answer Phanes could give as she fell from her perch on the corner of Lucy's bed, hers that she actually put the girl in until she was in good health again, where she'd been dozing off.

"Fey, they're here!"

"Wh- oh. Right. Ok." She turned to the prone form in the run-down bed, she shook her. "Lucy. Lucy sweet-heart. Wake up."

"Fey?"

"Lucy, I have to go down to see if any of the kids need to be brought into our dorm. I'll be back as soon as possible. If something happens, send Sonia to get me and I'll come back."

"Hmmmmm'okay..." she mumbled as she burrowed further into the blankets. Phanes touched her head to check for fever — it was still frighteningly hot, but she had to go to welcome the three kids.

* * *

The new residents made her feel lucky.

She'd only had to welcome one child, a small kid named Aren who was apparently 6 but looked like they were three. Phanes was not yet sure of their gender. Aren was frighteningly skinny, terribly small, and didn't talk at all. She hoped it was because the child was too frightened by the new environment to speak, and not because of a long-term thing that would only paint them as more of a target than their size already did.

She stopped in front of the kitchen.

"Stay here for a minute, I'm just getting some food for you. You would need it after the trip. I'll be right back."

The child just looked her in the eyes, then nodded and looked at their hands. Phanes ran into the kitchen, nabbed two slices of old bread because she knew it wouldn't be missed, then ran back out. They hadn't moved at all.

"Okay, little muffin, let's show you to the dorm."

She lightly took Aren's hand back in her own, and was suddenly left with the impression of having her hand in a vice. She looked down to see them sticking as close to her as they could, still without touching her aside from gripping her hand like their life depended on it. They kept shooting frantic looks around the hallways, probably in an effort to gain new marks, but their eyes were not panicked. Phanes stopped and crouched down in front of Aren, her hand still held in theirs. They were looking at the floor again, as if in repentance.

"Hey. Hey muffin. Look at me please."

Aren looked her in the eyes.

"I've been dragging you everywhere but I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Phanes, but the younger kids called me Fey and now everyone else does it too. Nice to meet'ya!" She said, extending her free hand slowly towards the child, careful to not startle them.

The kid looked at her left hand, then up at her face, then back at her hand, their squint getting more and more evident. Finally, they grabbed two of her fingers — all they could grab, really — and shook it lightly.

"Aren," was said in a light, but still scratchy voice. Hm. They could talk. That was a better response that she had hoped for.

"Great, Aren! Now. Would you prefer seeing the dorms first then the rest of the place, or the other way around?"

The kid seemed to ponder the possibilities for an instant.

"... Bathroom." This was pronounced in a decided fashion, despite the hesitation that preceded it. Their face spotted a slight but still remarkable frown.

"Oh! Of course. You've been on the road for a couple hours. Should have thought of that first, sorry. Let's go then." She started walking to the bathrooms and kept talking to Aren. "So. Are you a boy, a girl, or neither?"

Aren assessed her silently. Phanes waited for a while, but she realised that the child was not hesitating this time, but actually refusing to answer, probably for self-preservation reasons. But this was something Phanes had to know, if only to keep the child safe.

"Can I tell you a secret? Well, no, first, let me ask you a question. Do you think I look like a boy?"

The child squinted, looked her up and down, then warily nodded, obviously waiting for a trap.

"Okay. Then I'll tell you a secret: I'm not a boy. The adults think I am, but they're wrong ."

"... are you a girl then?"

"No. I sometimes feel like one but I am not a boy, and I am not a girl. You don't have to be either-or to be human."

Aren thought a couple minutes on it then nodded. They looked at a Phanes' face, then looked in front of them again and added, in a still scratchy but decided voice:

"I'm a girl," and the statement was accompanied by a determined nod.

* * *

"And that's the five-fifteen dorm! I'm the oldest right now so I'm sort of supervising everyone. We try to have someone between ten and fifteen helping a younger kid, but that's not very constant. Now, we have to be down in the kitchen by quarter to six to help prepare breakfast, and we eat at six on the dot. Lunch is at one, and dinner at six. Depending on the day, some of the older kids help for that, but you don't have to worry about it yet." Aren nodded here and there to show that she was following what was being said. All in all, this establishment was bound to be significantly better than the last one, Phanes supposed.

"Alriiight, so, finding you a bed. Hmmm…" The problem was, they were already a bit cramped as it was. Anna and Elie had to share one of the beds as it was because they were short on place, and Lucy had been in Phanes' bed since she was sick — Phanes herself usually sleeping at the foot of the bed, half seated, out of worry for the little girl. She was so tired she's had to rely on Oscar to watch over Nichol and make sure he didn't swallow anything dangerous.

"I shouldn't have you bunking with one of the boys. Anna and Ellie already are on one, Angèle usually sleeps with Lucy — that's the one over there, but please don't disturb her. She needs rest. Sonia kicks too much during her sleep… alright, no real choice I guess. Philip!"

The seven years old boy ran in from the next room ,where he'd been ironing shirts.

"Fey? What is it?" He asked.

"You'll have to bunk for a bit with- Wait. Show me your arm." The boy complied. "Philip, I've told you to be careful with that thing, look at this! You'll be lucky if that burn doesn't get infected!"

Philip's face took on a slightly green tint, and his lower lip started trembling. "I didn't mean to!"

"Shh, shh, it's okay. I saw it immediately, so I can take care of it. It'll be alright. Just be more careful next time, alright?" She took his hand in one of hers, took back Aren's hand in the other, and went to the infirmary, mumbling low enough that the children would not hear her: "Damn matron and her habit of giving dangerous tasks to clumsy children…"

She disinfected the burn on Philip's arm, then lathered it in burn paste, leaving it to breathe for the moment. In the meantime, she explained to him:

"Philip, this is Aren. She'll be with us from now on, but you've seen that the dorm is full; could you sleep with Nichol for now, so that she can sleep in your bed?"

Philip looked Aren up and down, then back at Phanes.

"As long as she doesn't wet herself during the night."

"Ha! I'm less likely to wet myself than you are, you baby." Ah. Apparently, the statement did not seat well with Aren. That was the longest sentence Phanes had heard her say as of yet.

"Baby? What are you, three?"

"I'm six, you dipshit! And I probably have more control over my bladder than you!" Well. That was quite the sentence. The girl might have a sharp tongue, but she also knew how to articulate a sentence. Phanes was still glad to see some fire in the her. She'd been worried that she might've been one of Spurgeon's superintendent's… favourites, nevermind that he'd seemed to prefer boys.

That was one worry less, she supposed, though the possibility was not completely discarded.

Philip scrunched his nose in something like disgust, then finally said "I suppose she can. Okay, I suppose I'll sleep will Nichol for a bit. At least he is not going to pee in the bed."

Phanes didn't even have the time to wince at the comment before Aren's fist flew… right into Philip's nose. Thankfully, she was too small and weak to do much damage yet, but she'd have to watch the girl.

"Okay, stop. Stop stop stop. Philip, that was uncalled for. You have no reason to say that, and even if you did, that wouldn't be enough to mock her over it. Aren, we. Do. Not. Fight each other. There's already enough of that with the matron liking to distribute fists more often than meals."

Philip looked properly chastised, and was apparently fighting tears, but Aren was glaring at her and pursing her lips, her hands at her sides and balled into fists. She then seemed to deflate all of a sudden, her shoulders hunched and her torso bent forward. She raised her arms to hug her middle and looked down.

"Philip, go back to the ironing now. You know matron will have it in for you if you don't finish by dinner time."

"Hmmmm." The kid scampered out of the room and got back to his work. Phanes would be the one to move what few things he possessed to Nichol's corner of the room, and settle Aren in.

She turned back to Aren, and offered her hand. The little girl took it but still stood in a submissive way, in what she recognised as a 'I'm not a threat so please don't hit me' pose. She gently dragged her to her new spot.

"Come on, help me pack Philip's things. We also have to take off the sheets and put on clean ones for you. You won't wet the bed, right?" There, the glare was back. That was way better. "So as I said earlier, we don't fight between ourselves. The matron will pick any tiny reason she can find to punish us either by keeping us from meals, or giving us more chores, or just hitting us. I have no doubt it's better than where you were, but that still means we don't need more in-fighting on top of that."

Aren hesitated for an instant, then jerkily nodded her head. They finished moving things in as companionable a silence as you could get between people who had just met.

* * *

Shit. Shitshitshitshit. What had she done? They were soooooo in deep shit. Running away. Hah! Sure the matron wouldn't hit them anymore, but that didn't mean no one on the streets would try to. Now they'd have to find food, and shelter, and all the vital necessities… F***!

Lucy was gripping her shoulders from her piggy-back position on Phanes' back.

"Where are we going, Fey?" she asked in a barely heard, still half-asleep whisper.

"Away. We can't stay there anymore. The matron's gone even more insane and we're not safe. We'll have to come back for the others once we find a good place."

"Hmmm…" Lucy had stopped being sick about a month after it had started, but despite the three months since, she was still weak and unable to walk on her own for long, much less run.

Aren and Philip were running behind her, and she looked back every two or three steps to make sure they were still following. Philip managed just fine, but Aren, who was even smaller than Lucy, had difficulties following; where Phanes took three steps, she had to take twice that.

They reached a large building that looked half-decrepit, with broken windows and no lights on inside. The door appeared to be locked, but she let climb Lucy off her back, then jammed her shoulder into the rusted thing as violently as she could. It gave in easily.

"Come in, now. Quick, we have to close it again." The three children scampered in and she closed the door again. She had to jam it again to shut it properly, but she finally managed it.

The place was not pitch black, but it still took their eyes some time to get used to the surrounding darkness. Apparently, they were not the first to think of using the place as a shelter, because there was a pile of tatty blankets in a corner of the hall they found themselves in. They went there directly, and the smell was terrible, but still better than freezing in the cold of late November.

Aren took off for a couple of minutes, rummaging about, then came back and in a whisper: "I found water. At a tap."

That was something. They'd have a steady source of water to wash themselves and possibly drink, if they had no better option; unless the pipes froze, but that would be a problem for later.

"Philip, can you give me the backpack now?" The boy complied and gave Phanes the bag packed with some bread, a cold bottle of porridge, some crackers and two empty water bottles. They'd know soon enough is the water was safe for drinking or not. They ate some of the bread but kept most of it just in case they couldn't find anything else the next day; quenched their thirst with iron-tasting but otherwise good enough water; then wrapped themselves in the blankets, and bundled together to keep some of their warmth. Still, sleep was long coming.

* * *

The nagger was dead. Dead. Aren couldn't believe it. Philip was dead. Philip was dead. It kept circling in her head. DeaddeaddeaddeaddeadPhilipisdead …

The day had started well enough. Within two hours of waking up, they'd nabbed two purses, although one of them was pretty much empty, and a wooden pallet that they could burn for heat; Philip had been about to nab a tin of soup when an old hag had caught him and dragged him out of the supermarket in a back street. That was how Fey and her had found them, the old hag with her hands up his ratty t-shirt. Philip was struggling, and even on his dark skin the paling was evident, aside from two dark splotches on his cheek like he'd been slapped several times. But he was still young, barely over eight, and had nothing on the woman.

When the hag had seen them, she'd grabbed his neck in a tight grip and with her other hand, she'd grabbed a thin stick of wood and waved it at them, and she'd lost all control of her limbs. She stayed standing, unmoving, but Fey had collapsed to the ground. Aren tried to resist, to move a limb, and the hag squinted at her, then mumble some more and the restriction increased on her; meanwhile, the other hand was still gripping Philip's throat and his movement were growing feeble.

"It's my toy! Mine mine mine! You won't take him from me!" she screamed, and both her hands seemed to tighten again. Abruptly, Philip's struggling stopped and he slumped, and Aren could no longer hear his raspy breathing. The woman turned to him, lowering her stick as she did so.

"Hey," she shook him a bit. "Wake up," she shook him again, then threw him down, "now!"

He didn't. His chest didn't even raise up and down, and his face was a purple sort of marbley, and he wouldn't move. Aren stood there frozen.

"It's broken. It was my toy and you broke it!" She sent a powerful kick to his ribs. "You'll have to be my toy now," she advanced on Aren, who could not take her eyes off Philip, "because you broke it."

It never registered that the hag was closing in on her, until she felt a hand on her stomach, under her shirt, sneaking into the front of her pants. And with a jolt of bitter clarity, she knew what was about to happen. She'd seen in happen to the boys at Spurgeon's, curled up on her mat, trembling as she tried to stay as silent as possible because she'd had to live through it once, and never again, and at least it wasn't her, but it made her feel sticky and disgusting inside and guilty because that meant someone else had to endure. She was lucky she'd been born a girl.

The idea that someone might touch her like that again, when she'd thought she was free and safe, in all the danger that living in the street inherently caused, sent a burning coil of anger-hatred-disgust in her gut that slowly made its way in her chest, her shoulders, her arms and her throat, like a wave of heat that nothing can stop, and then the woman- the thing- was nothing anymore, nothing but pressed meat and bone and bowels against a wall, and the smell- no wait, Philip-

She ran to him and stuck her face close to his, feeling for breathing. Nothing. Stuck her ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing. She shook him, then pinched him, then slapped him, as strong as she could even though they didn't fight because the matron is quite enough on her own thank you. And nothing.

She looked back at the… thing on the wall, where you could still vaguely distinguish the shape of twisted arms and legs, and a head, and then she ran. As fast as she could, she ran away away away because if she could do that just because of a memory then who knows what else she could do. Monster. Maybe that's how she'd resisted whatever the hag had done to Fey and her? Monster. That's why Philip is dead. Because you couldn't bow down. He'd be traumatised but alive if you'd just taken it and shut your metaphoric mouth. Monster. Maybe that's why her parents got rid of her? Monster. Because she could turn things and people into meat-piles if she got scared. Monster. She'd rather run than do that to Fey and Lucy. Lucy who hadn't seen anything, what a relief. Fey who'd been there, and slumped on the ground, and Aren hadn't even checked if she was alright. She'd just run. Monster. Egoist. Monster. Philip was dead. Monster. Monster. Monster.

She found herself at an intersection she recognised, and she immediately ran in the direction opposite to that of the hangar they now called their headquarters. She wouldn't risk them like that. She ran like her life was forfeit if she stopped, and it certainly felt like it would be. Houses, fabrics, shops, buildings streamed past her, and in her adrenaline-fueled frenzy, she didn't see them as anything but a blur. She ran until she couldn't anymore, and found herself in an area she didn't know.

That would do for now.

* * *

It had been three weeks. Logistically speaking, it wasn't so hard to survive on her own. She just had to make sure to get the right supplies, and find a more-or-less safe, warm spot, then she was set. Emotionally speaking, she was still dull and dead inside- no. That was unfair. She couldn't say that when Philip was actually dead and Fey was left alone with Lucy.

The lurch in her gut was back, burning her from the inside. That was the harshest aspect of her "new" life. The thing that she'd done, the whatever that had crushed the hag to a wall, had not left. It kept rearing its ugly head at the slightest opportunity, usually when she had a spike in emotion. So far, she'd managed to keep it inside. She contracted her ribcage, and her guts, and her throat, and her arms around herself, and she tried to keep. It. Inside.

She was weakening, though, she knew it. The last time she'd fainted from the effort of it. But this time she was alone, and in an abandoned store, and she could, maybe, let it out? She unclenched her fists, relaxed her arms, and lifted them from her stomach. And as she was about to lay them on the ground and start unclenching her stomach, it changed from a lurch to a raging storm, and it did that same thing again. Up her chest and her arms and her throat. But it had gotten worse, because this time, whatever it was levelled the building right on top of her.

But she'd fainted, and didn't see the piece of ceiling falling on top of her.

* * *

She woke up exactly not where she had expected.

She thought she'd be in the rubble of the shop, but she found herself in a room with stone walls, no windows, and what looked like a door with bars, like you'd expect in a prison, except it had no lock. She'd been "resting" on a surprisingly well-maintained mattress, although it was a bit scratchy. She knew that by most people's standard, the thinness would be a deterrent, but considering where she came from, it was actually a luxury.

In a corner sat a plate of bread and a jug of water, as well as a simple metally goblet. She took a sip of the water, but it tasted like metal and smelled like plastic. Weird combination on the senses.

She sat up, with a bit of a struggle as her legs seemed to refuse to support her, then walked to the door. If there wasn't any security here, she wasn't going to wait around for them —whoever they were — to show up and ask questions. She gripped one of the bars near the borders of the door, and pulled, then pushed, but it didn't budge. She supposed it was because she'd been fiddling with the wrong side of the door, but when she tried the same with the other edge, it didn't budge either.

That was when a man walked in, rather short but stocky in a fit sort of way. He had black hair, though it was slowly fading to pepper-and-salt, and his cheeks were in need of a good shave. He wore strange clothes, sort of like a bathrobe but less fuzzy and more elegant, that she almost found pretty. That could almost be worn outside, probably... He felt prickly to her senses, though, even if she couldn't smell anything on him.

He walked to the door, then came to a brutal stop in front of her. He crouched so that her face was level with his.

"Hello, little Obscurus. That's quite a scene you've caused, isn't it?"

"..." Obscurus?

"We had to obliviate 27 muggle passers-by, and that after bringing two of them to St-Mungo to heal their injuries. We'll also have to obliviate them too, obviously."

She hadn't gotten much of that, beyond the fact that two passers-by had been hurt because she'd thought she could just relax and let it out , and she was horrified. She'd hurt two more people!

"Now, what's an obscurus like you running in the streets in London for? Usually, they have a… favourite sort of target, see, like 'this man has hit me for being a freak so I'll kill anyone who looks like him and everything they hold dear'. That's actually what could very easily have happened to Potter, although I'm not supposed to know that. So, why were you in London, and what were you looking for?"

"... I was getting away from my friends. I didn't want to hurt them."

"Friends? Do you mean to tell me that you, an obscurus, have friends?"

"I suppose so. What's an obscurus?"

"You don't… Wait. Of course. Most obscurus are muggle-raised young wizarding folk. So you say you had friends?"

Wizards . What. The. F***ing. Heck. The guy looked at the ceiling for an instant.

"... I'll call in Madam Bones. I don't know how to deal with kids anyway." His eyes moved back to her. "This cell you're in is Obscuri-proof, and locked magically, so you can't escape. Trying to do so would only get you killed immediately and rather painfully. I'd advise you against it." He stood up once more, and briskly walked out the other end of the hallway.

She didn't need his little speech, though. She was terrified enough of herself that she was too scared to try anything, and that she'd probably also welcome the possibility of execution. The fact that she'd withstood no injuries while destroying the building she'd been in meant she was probably death-proof at that point — accidental at least.

She sat there for an undefined time, until the steps of the man could be heard again, followed by the sharp snappy sound of heels on the floor, and the softer steps of a third person. The scruffy man from earlier appeared again, mumbling in his proverbial (but very short) beard about old meddling wizards and shoving their curiosity where even inferi wouldn't go.

"Get away from the door, kid. I want at least a meter between you and it." Aren complied.

He stepped back, and the woman then took his place in front of the door, a very tall, old, beardy and weirdly dressed man just behind her shoulder.

"Hello. I'm Amelia Bones, and I'm the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I've been called here, because I've been told that you have no knowledge of your situation, and that you behave quite strangely for an obscurus. The first one can not be tolerated, as all who are executed must know why, and the second lets me think you needn't be executed in the first place…"

Aren stayed silent, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You've already met Auror Baldwin, of course. This other man behind me is someone with an extensive experience with children, as well as with obscurus cases. He's also the Headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Professor Dumbledore."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Summarily edited as of 2017-12-25. Still looking for a potential beta. :P

* * *

The Dumbledore guy looked at her with a sad smile for all of a second, then he seemed to see something and his eyes roamed her face, and the rest of her person, rather frantically. He actually looked pretty furious now. For an instant, Aren feared for her safety. This man might look old, he still looked far from decrepit; she also felt that he could immediately destroy her if he so wished, even though he sported no apparent weapon. She knew as well that it was easy to conceal a dagger on one's self, as she'd seen it done and done it herself quite a few times.

He turned to "Aurore Baldwin" in a snap, and asked in a voice that sounded like that of someone only mildly interested:

"What is the meaning of this, Mr Baldwin?" His voice was calm but still conveyed rather intense annoyance and fury.

"The… The what, Professor," the man stuttered out.

"The meaning of this? You clearly said that she was an obscurus, right?"

"Well y-yes! She levelled a 5-stories building, and everything else in a 35m radius. Burnt two muggles with raw magic!"

Dumbledore's face took on a disappointed expression that somehow was even worse. Aren hoped she'd never be on the receiving end of that . "I see you remember naught of your Care of Magical Creatures, Mr Baldwin, which is quite unfortunate for an Auror." The man winced a little. What has his name got to do with anything? And who in their right mind named a newborn boy "Aurore" for that matter? Wait. Back to the topic at hand. She'd better focus.

"Obscurus is the energy released by an Obscurial," Dumbledude explained with the sort of patience you had for misbehaving children, right before the punitions started raining, "a wizarding child repressing their magic. This is a little girl, not some mass of dark energy, and I think that'd be enough of an indicator of your mistake. Even then, I do agree that she shows the first signs of becoming an Obscurial, but these are in no way definitive! Why, give her the opportunity to use her magic in a safe, constructive way and she'll be a fully functioning wizarding student in no time."

"Sir, with all due respect, are you finally going senile? Or did you just not hear anything I said? She levelled a quarter. Of a block. With magic alone, no incantation or foci of any kind, and I'm pretty sure she also did not mean to gather so much power."

"Excuse me, but… 'Pretty sure'?" Madam Bones interrupted. "Are you telling me that you were going to condone the execution of a child by dementor kiss — which is not even a real solution for dealing with full-fledged Obscuri — on a case that might not be lost, and all that on a hunch? "

This time, Mr Baldwin properly recoiled at the comment. Apparently, he had majorly f***ed-up. She wasn't going to complain, though, because even if she'd understood maybe a third of that exchange, it was enough to guess that things were looking up for her. Maybe. Madam Bones looked positively deadly, and unless humans were fundamentally different in this weird as hell place, the Aurore guy was probably looking at a demotion, if not a proper dismissal. Not that she felt sorry for him, mind. He was trying to get her killed.

The man open his mouth again, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. Uh-oh, even she could tell that was a bad idea.

"How do you propose that she be allowed to use her magic 'in a safe, constructive way'? Considering the amount of destruction she can unleash on accident, the number of places for that is quite limited."

Dumbledude chuckled at that. Oh shit.

"Simple. She'll start Hogwarts early. We're lucky, the term just started, and it will be easy for her to catch up. Especially with the sort of proficiency she demonstrated already."

A silence welcomed that, and then Madam Bones just slapped the middle of her face with her palm.

* * *

She couldn't quite believe what was happening. After that completely whacked conversation, she'd been left alone in her cell for what she estimated to be half an hour, then they'd come back, just Dumbledude and Mr Baldwin. The later had waved a stick to open the barred door, and instantly she'd been brought back to the hag, and her stick, and the human pancake on the wall, and Philip … She started hyperventilating, and she felt the thing inside of her again, trying to escape.

Dumbledude noticed, and unlike Baldwin who'd hastily backpedaled away from her, he actually had walked into the cell and kneeled in front of her.

"Young girl, there is nothing to fear. You are safe now. Can you hear me? Take deep breaths..."

The thing had lashed out, making gashes and cracks in the stones of the walls and a cut somehow had found its way on Dumbledude's face. It had started seeping blood, and she had panicked further. What if she did to him what she'd done to the hag? But no, she had still been conscious of what was happening around her, she hadn't been as far gone yet. She had still been able to stop the thing.

Out of a desire to regain control, she had stopped breathing altogether. The thing had stopped in response, and the power centered itself back on her, slowly crushing her.

"Shhhh. Do not be afraid. Here," he had taken one of her hand, that laid limp at her side, and put it on her chest. He'd done the same with her other hand on his own chest, and proceeded to take measured breaths, "in, out. In, out. Can you feel my ribcage moving? Try to mimic it. In, out. In, out. The air comes into your chest and reaches all the corners of your lungs. Hold it in for a second then… Let it out. In, out. You'll be alright. Mr Baldwin will stay well away from you, and I will be escorting you from now on to make sure you remain safe. In, out. In… Out."

This had kept going on for a while, how long she couldn't say, until the pressure in her chest had eased off by small increments. Her head had stopped spinning, and she had slowly regained some degree of feeling in her limbs. Once he'd been sure that she was back in control of herself, he'd sat back on his heel, then rummaged in his bathrobe-like clothes until he brought out two things that had looked like licorice lollipops — and after she'd mindlessly accepted one and started eating it, which was a terrible idea, it actually had tasted like licorice.

Once she'd managed to get up and stay steady on her feet, they'd exited the building (Baldwin was nowhere to be seen) and she had followed him into several streets until they had reached a dark corner. Before she had time to panic — oh no, not again, old men in dark corners please not again — Dumbledude had kneeled in front of her again, and was explaining to her why exactly they were there.

"Young girl? I better inform you before hand: I brought is to this place because we're going to Apparate." Reading the question on her face, he had quickly added: "Apparition is a form of magical travel, among others, that allows one to move instantly from one location to another one they have been to previously. It is, however, not very discreet, and Muggles — non magical folks — are not supposed to see it."

She had nodded her face to show her understanding, and he had beamed at her like she'd announced both Christmas and Halloween were going to happen right then and there.

"Another warning: the sensation is quite unpleasant at first. Some of the muggleborns liken it to 'having to squeeze themselves through a gardening hose' from one point to the other. One gets used to it, but at first it also tends to induce nausea. Now, if you will hold onto my arm, I will transport us to the wizarding shopping district."

Wondering why he hadn't done that from the place the cell had been in in the first place, she had gripped his arm and been… the sensation really was reminiscent of being shoved in a garden hose. She had stumbled upon arrival, but the old man had stabilised her by lightly grabbing her shoulder.

* * *

Once she had gotten some non-existent dust off herself, she'd taken in the place they were in and stood there for several second, her mouth just hanging open. Dumbledude chuckled.

"Quite interesting, is it not? I grew in wizarding society, and still I had the same reaction as you when I first came here. In the popular opinion, Diagon Alley is one of the most fascinating places of England, and possibly of Europe. Now." He gestured with his hand towards what looked like an ice-cream parlor. "Would you fancy a little breakfast?"

They made their way to one of the tables, with Aren having to almost run to keep up with him while still not running into people. They settled, and no waiter seemed to go between the tables. She was wary about picking up the menu, as she had no way to pay for herself, but the old man urged her to take it, saying he was offering. As she was perusing the options, he started speaking.

"Now, I must tell you of a few important facts. The first is, I was able to negotiate with the Ministry of Magic, which is where you were held, and they have given me your guardianship. That means that from now on, I will be responsible for you. It is not the same as Muggle adoption, as far as I know, but it will provide you with a place to fall back to, at least for now. It also means I will take all your day-to-day expenses in the foreseeable future."

She took that in, then nodded and kept reading the menu. Hmmm… Pistachio. She'd nabbed some during her stay in the streets, with Philip's help— No. Don't go there. She closed the menu, and placed it back on the table.

"Are you done choosing? Very well. What will it be?"

"Pistachio?" She answered in a tiny voice. He looked at her approvingly.

"Excellent choice. You might want to get some whipped cream with it, the one they make here is divine. I~ will have the lemon meringue pie flavoured one. And two helpings of whipped cream, one for each of us." He closed his menu, and both his and hers disappeared from the table. Aren jumped in fright. "Easy, little one. This just means they've taken our orders. Now, I believe our introduction took place in such dire circumstances that I think it would be helpful to start over. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I find that to be a bit of a mouthful, so you may call me Professor in public, and Albus in private like right now. Since I am your guardian, being called 'Professor' all the time might get weird. I read in the file that your name was Aren, but that is all it said as the name was simply provided by scrying parchment. I'd like to know more about you?"

She shrugged with her left shoulder, not too sure she wanted to expound on her brilliant — definitely over as far as she was concerned — childhood. The waiter arrived at that moment, their order miraculously, or as she was starting to suspect, magically balanced on his arm. He placed it in front of them, somehow knowing who had ordered what, and then wished them a 'bon appétit' and left them to eat. Dumbledu— Albus turned back at her, and added:

"It just occured to me that you might not feel like talking about what happened to you until now, but it is necessary to ensure I take care of you as best as I can, and to ensure I do not cause a repeat of what happened in the cell before we left."

She paled considerably, then realised he was blaming the incident, and the possibility that it might happen again, on himself. She gaped at him.

"To make this easier on you, I thought you'd ask a question first, that I would answer, and then I will ask one that you will answer, so on and so forth. I realised that answers to the questions you have might not seem worth it, and they are not indeed vital — you could manage on your own with some time — but it will make things far easier for you. Do you agree?"

Aren pondered this for a while, taking several bites of her ice-cream and chantilly to stall having to answer. She blurted the first thing she could think of.

"Why have we come here?" Well, that sealed the deal, she supposed.

"Aaaah, of course, we left rather hastily. Well, as I said, provided that you are properly taught, your magic should come back under control fairly quickly. Actually, the fact that you settled so fast earlier means that you probably are not even an Obscurial, merely a very powerful child who had a panic attack. You do remember what an Obscurial is?" She nodded. "Good. As you are simply very powerful, probably more than I ever was at your age, there is no reason you shouldn't be able to attend school starting tomorrow, or rather the day after as it is Sunday. Children usually start their schooling at eleven, but the level of magic you displayed means your education must start rather early. We are here to acquire what you will need for your schooling and basic needs for the year to come, and if anything misses, we will come back."

Aren struggled to take all that in, but decided it could all go to hell. She had the chance of getting an education . No more hiding in libraries to devour everything she could. No more stealing books to try and keep up with the kids that went to school. No more people looking down on her… Maybe?

"Now, I believe it is my turn to ask a question?" She nodded again. "How long have you been living in the streets?" She gaped, again. "Your general state of 'wellbeing' is rather characteristic. I do not know yet if you were abandoned, ran away or grew up like this, however, which is why I am asking this."

She didn't want to answer, and suddenly her appetite was gone, but she knew he wouldn't let it drop…

"Roughly a year ago… I think? I was with other children. One of them died. The other was unconscious when I left, and the third was not there. I don't know what happened to them. I left them… three weeks ago, I think." She hoped that was enough of an answer. "What subjects are taught at Hogwarts?"

Albus had a knowing glint in his eyes, but let it slide.

"During your first year, you will mostly be taught about core subjects: transfiguration, charms, history of the magical world, how to fly a broom (although that's only for the first year), potions, defence against the dark arts, herbology, and… ah, astronomy. Is there any of these subjects you want me to explain a bit more? That won't count as your question."

"Errr… Potions? And charms? All the others are pretty-self explanatory."

"Very well. Charms is generally the manipulations of the forces organising the world. The most simple example of that is the first spell you will learn, the levitating charm: it negates the effects of gravity, but only to the degree that you want it to. It also deals with creation and disparition of objects such as water of fire, or the animation of objects. The intricacies are more complex than that, but you will not study them unless you take up arithmancy in third year.

"Potions is… are you familiar with chemistry?" Aren nodded. "Well, in practice, think of it as a medieval form of chemistry. The ingredients are much less pure but also much more fine in application. It is a fairly dangerous subject, which is why our teacher in this topic is rather exacting on the students. It is also quite complex on the theory side, which makes it a subject very few students take a liking to.

"My turn now, I think. Where did you live before you lived in the streets, and for how long?"

"I was in an orphanage in London for a bit more than a year. That was where I met the other children I was with in the streets." She looked up at Albus, who was expectantly looking at her. "They were… it was not too bad, at the beginning." She swallowed to try to get her throat less dry. "It was actually way better than the previous place I'd been to. Another orphanage. At this new place, the older kids looked after us at best, ignored us at worst. The matron was mean and no one liked her, and she did tend to give us too many, too dangerous chores, and hitting us sometimes… but it was still better. But then about two months before we left, s-she started to get angry. She'd hit us all the time, and she didn't give use food… she left Nichol in a closet for two days, without water or food, and she didn't let him out even to go to the bathroom. Nichol was very small, smaller than me. She only let him out when it started stinking, and by then Nichol was dead. When Phanes saw that, she said that if we were going to be starved, we might as well live on the streets because then at least we wouldn't get hit or abused or killed. So we followed her." She blinked, very fast, even though her eyes were dry. "Can I ask a question now?"

"May I, and yes, you may."

"How does the school work?"

"Administratively? Scholarly? Socially?"

"All of that." Aren knew she was being greedy, and that if Albus agreed, she'd have to answer a big one next.

"Administratively speaking, it's fairly simple: you have me, the Headmaster; I am tasked with heavy sentences when a student steps out of bounds, such as suspension or expulsion; I take care of the public relations of the school, and of its funding; and finally, though it is less known, I am tasked with maintaining the wards of Hogwarts, that ensure safety within the school. Then you have McGonagall, the transfigurations teacher and the deputy headmistress. She's the one who takes care of recruitment for the first years, and deals with the organisation of detentions, as well as the coordination of the time tables and clubs. You have all the teachers, who can sometimes take care of extracurricular clubs. You will also meet Rubeus Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds, but he just started as the Care of Magical Creatures this year. And finally, you have Filch, the caretaker of the castle; he is mostly responsible for maintaining the castle's state of cleanliness… and he thinks finding students out of bed after curfew positively delightful, though said students rarely return the feeling.

"Scholarly speaking, first year and second year are as I described earlier. In third year, you get to chose between different electives, such as Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies… you have to take whatever class you choose until the end of fifth year, bar special circumstances. That's when you take your O. , or Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Depending on the results to these tests, and the expectation of your teachers, you can continue to pursue such and such subject, or you have to drop it. You then have your two last years of school, that lead to your N.E. , or Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. The result to those determine which sort of further studies and career you can pursue, but that's for later, I think.

"Socially speaking, the school is divided into four houses. They group students of the same mind, try to foster their strength and discourage their weaknesses and quirks. The first house is Griffindor, which values boldness and courage and looks down on cowardice. The second is Hufflepuff, which value loyalty and friendship and abhors betrayal. The third is Slytherin, which values subtlety and cunning and discourages recklessness. And the fourth is Ravenclaw, which value knowledge and sharing it, and look down on lack of intellectual curiosity, or stagnation. They are led respectively by: Minerva McGonagall, the transfiguration professor; Pomona Sprout, the herbology professor; Severus Snape, the potion professor; and Filius Flitwick, the charms professor.

"Does that answer your question in a satisfying way?"

"I think so, yes. I might ask you to clarify things later on… that won't count in my questions, right?"

"It will not," confirmed Albus. "You said that being hit and starved and used as a house-elf- sorry, a slave, was better than the previous place. What was that place like?"

"Have you heard of Spurgeon's Orphanage in London?"

"Yes, we had a muggleborn from there a couple years ago… what does this have to do with our current situation?"

Aren lowered her eyes to her hands, joined in her lap, and her next words were a barely intelligible whisper.

"I was there from as early as I can remember, to then it closed when I was almost six and a half. That's when I moved to that other orphanage." Then she looked up.

Albus had paled so drastically that she actually felt worried he might have a heart attack or a similarly grave affection, then she understood. Heknew . He knew. She had supposed she would have to tell him at some point, and now she didn't have to, but she wasn't sure if this was better or worse.

"What was the name of the superintendent?"

Aren had sometimes associated voices with colours, out of sheer instinct. Some had been red with anger, some had been green with fear, some had been purple and blue, with warmth. Some were white with the blinding perfection of lies; some were black, absolute, true. She'd never heard a transparent voice before. She flinched.

"... Joseph Matthews."

She was surprised when she escaped further questioning, as Albus let his face drop in his hands, his elbows propped up on the table. Both their ice creams were forgotten now. After a bit, he looked back up, and although he looked extremely tired, some colour was back in his face. Aren was surprised at the importance she gave to that. She also noticed that the cut on his face, while almost completely healed, had left a nasty scar. Magic looked potent but was apparently not omni potent. She felt guilty about the scar.

"Aren," she flinched again. "... I won't ask more of you today. Do you wish to finish your ice-cream?" She shook her head left and right. "Very well. Then I think it best that we start moving now. We have to get your school supplies now. You have books, potion supplies and equipment, clothes both for school and casual, a wand, a pet, a suitcase with Wizarding space… That means space that is larger on the inside than on the outside. What do you want to start with?"

"The suitcase, I think? It will be more practical in the long run. Less things to lug around."

"That is not really a worry for Wizards, but you make a good point. Let's start there, then see what other shops there are nearby." His smile was small but seemed enthusiastic and sincere, and she followed him to their first destination.

* * *

She walked out of the clothes store completely blown off her own mind. The amount Albus had just spent on her was an aberration. She now had a few of everything in both normal- Muggle clothes, and Wizarding clothing. Cloaks, skirts, jeans, underwear… she had everything. Scarves and hoods, gloves… she would never be cold again.

She followed Albus in something called an "apothecary" where she simply stood as he got everything she would need that year, and once that was acquired and placed in her suitcase, the moved on the what looked like a bookstore.

When she passed the threshold, she felt like she'd gotten slapped in the face. So many books, everywhere, and this must be some more of what Albus called this 'Wizarding space' thing, because it definitely was larger inside than it had looked from the outside, and all of these were on thing she didn't know, without exception. She knew she could not get everything, but how could she choose?

Albus has kept moving, expertly moving through the shelves and grabbing books this way and that, then going to the cashier and giving them to her but not paying them yet. He then walked back to her and leaned towards her without towering over her, which she was grateful for.

"I've already picked up all your school books, so you don't have to look for them. Now, since you'll probably be more interested in some subjects than others, I suggest you limit yourself to five books for now, then we will come back in two or three weeks, once you've gotten a feel for every subject. Does that seem ok to you?"

She realised that in that time she'd probably read only her school books, although she'd be done by the next outing. She said so to Albus, who acquiesced, and then went to pay the books and put them in her suitcase.

"Only two things left, Aren, and then we'll leave for the school for good. The wand, first." They entered an old store, where a man with wild white hair, wide eyes and wiry limbs welcomed them, smelling of dust and wood and closed spaces. It made Aren uncomfortable, but she quashed it as soon as the feeling reared it's ugly head. She did not want to lose it here.

"Hello, young girl. Hmmm, young indeed, very young for Hogwarts, and yet Headmaster Dumbledore is here with you, so it must be that you are ready. Very well. Let us try… this first one. Birch, dragon heartstring, 11 inches, low flexibility." He handed the stick to Aren who felt distinctly uneasy. She swished it, and the old wand man's moustache caught on fire. He patted it down quickly, putting the fire out, but not before Aren had hurriedly put the thing back on his desk. "Well, I suppose that means not that one." He put it back in its box then pulled another one. "Yew, dragon heartstring, 13 inches and a half."

She swished this one too, away from any potential target. Nothing caught on fire this time; instead, one of the shelves exploded. She put it back down on the desk too while the wand man fixed the shelf.

"Not this one either."

This went on for quite a while. She had a very pronounced tendency to make things explode, or burn, or melt, and at some point, one of the wands exploded in her hand. "Oh, that was a terrible placement indeed. I am sorry. Please give me your arm, I will heal you right away."

The wand man waved his stick over her arm, first pulling the wood shards out of her skin, then slowly sealing the cuts. He then thought for a couple minutes, and in his silence she wondered if she was a monster afterall. Maybe monsters didn't need wands. Maybe they didn't need school, either. Just as she was starting to consider bolting through the door, the wand man snapped his finger and crowed a "I know!" Then he fled to the back room and came back with a single box.

"Young miss, I believe this one might be right. Yew wood, unicorn hair, thirteen inches, swishy and plenty flexible."

She waved that one with dread, but instead of yet another disaster as she expected, she felt a heat go up her arm, almost like the think living in her ribcage but more controled and going the reverse way.

She let out her first true giggle in years. The wand man, Ollivanders, she remembered, now that her anxiety wasn't gnawing at her insides, smiled at her and handed her the box the wand had been in.

"I think this is the one, young girl. Yew often chooses powerful wizard, be they light or dark, but unicorn hair is extremely resistant to dark magic. In addition, it tends to dampen the end result of spells, which considering your raw power is probably a good thing. The length and swishiness will make it great for transfiguration and potion work; in other words, precise crafts." He turned to Albus, "That will be seven galleons, please." And upon reception of the payment, "thank you. Young girl, I expect interesting things from you," he added for Aren's benefit.

She returned the wand to its box, then placed the box securely within her trunk. No way in hell was she letting that one be damaged. She nodded to Albus, and they exited the store.

* * *

The last store they visited was the animal menagerie, upon Albus' insistence. The choice, emotionally speaking, had been an easy one.

A small cat, adolescent probably, but certainly not a full adult yet, had caught her eyes when she'd gotten close. It was black as night, a striking contrast to her own white hair, but its eyes were a piercing blue, between her own pale turquoise and Albus' glacier blue eyes. When Aren came closer to the cage's bars, which she judged an awful way to treat anything living, the cat started purring like it would die if it didn't; and when she scratched its head, the sound got even louder, loud enough that the owner came to see what was happening.

"Well that's a heckuva surprise. She's not mean to anyone, but she's usually cold as ice to all the clients, and even to me." Albus went on discuss with the owner, and Aren kept petting the cat. She knew, strategically speaking, that an owl would be more helpful, especially with mail, as Albus had explained to her during their shopping; but the cat was now softly batting at her finger, like it wanted to play but feared hurting her. Few people, or even few thing, had ever showed that degree of caring.

Albus came back to her, startling her out of her reverie.

"I've discussed with the clerk, and I got her for you. She doesn't have a name, as it is traditional to name an animal after they come into their owner's care. As for mail, well… provided that Fumseck, my familiar, is amenable, you can borrow him to send whatever correspondence you might want."

Aren gaped at him, then at the cat — her cat — then back at Albus, and then the cat, and back and forth for a few seconds. She could not answer Albus, nor say thank you, as the words stayed stuck in her emotion-clogged throat. She just got the cat out of her cage, gathered her in her arms, and put her face in her slick fur. The purring picked up again, louder.

"I'm going to call you Duister."


	3. Chapter 3

They landed on a soft, plush carpet. It was all Aren saw for a few seconds, as she fought the nausea rising in her. However Apparition worked, she wasn't eager to learn it. She had two legs and she'd use them, thank you very much.

They had arrived in what appeared the be a cosy antechamber, with a small couch against one wall, a fireplace on the other, and a low table with a few empty glasses.

"Can you sit here for a minute, Aren? I need to call the heads of house, and then we'll sort you into one of the houses; but before they arrive, I want you to know that as your guardian, you may come to me whenever you need. I have a duty to be as neutral as possible as the headmaster, but I am also responsible for your care. If you need help, I want to stress that you can come to me . Now."

Albus snapped his fingers, and a very small creature that barely reached his knee appeared. It looked like it was as thin as she was, scrawny legs and arms and knobby joints, with an oversized head that was at least the width of its bony shoulder. Its nose pointed prominently from its face, narrow and sharp, slightly upturned. It had rather large ears, that one could have likened to an elephant's at a smaller scale. One of them was slightly droopy. When it looked briefly at her upon arrival, she saw it had eyes so large it was probably the size of her fist. It turned back immediately to Albus, letting her observe his strange outfit made of what looked to be a clean dish towel tied around its hips.

"Yes, Mister Headmaster, sir?" He asked, the eagerness obvious in its voice.

"Callie, I need you to tell all the heads of house to come immediately to my office, for a matter pertaining to the sorting." The creature popped away the same way it had popped in. "They will be here shortly." he was rummaging in a small cabinet by the fireplace that she hadn't noticed before. Had it even been there… ? "The sorting is a fairly easy process, Aren. You see, we have the sorting hat, which I will bring out when the heads are here. I will put it on your head, and it will read in your head— but only your personality, not your memories, unless you want to share them. It will then tell you what house you would best fit in. At that moment, your new head of house will accompany you to the dorms, after explaining the rules to you. They differ very slightly depending on the house but it should be simple enough, seeing as you appear quite bright for your age."

At that moment, the fireplace flared with green flames, making Aren give a little jump in her seat. A plump woman with greying hair and a worried, caring face, walked out of the hearth. She was soon followed by a very small man — she thought it was a man — that reached her elbow, as small as she was, with bushy hair and a thick white beard. A tall, stern woman all in green was the next person, and Aren immediately pegged her as the strict grandmother type that she'd read about in several books. She didn't yet if it was advantageous or not. The last person to step out was a very tall man — taller than Albus even — all in black, even his hair and eyes; he was lean but not in the same underweight way that she was, and carried himself in a towering way over everyone in the room. He had a long nose, with a visible bridge right in the middle that indicated it'd been broken at some point; his face was stuck in a sneer. He was the first to speak.

"Good evening, sir. May I ask what requires that we spend the evening in your dubious company?" Whoa. Snark. Her level of snark, if now worse. She supposed they were close, or he wouldn't permit this level of disrespect with his superior, but damn, that would've stung if it'd been thrown at her. Probably.

"Severus, dear boy, come here, come here." He pulled out his wand and summoned four flush chairs for them to sit in. He sat himself close to Aren on the couch. "Come sit with us, all of you. Let me introduce you to Aren."

Aren was overcome by an out of character bout of shyness. She tried to hide it as much as possible, but her hand had a twitch towards Albus' sleeve. She had rarely been in the presence of so many adults, and never before had that been a good thing. Not wanting to let them see her weakness, she disguised it as lifting her hand to her face to scratch the underside of her jaw in a disinterested way. She knew that people used to deception would have seen the twitch in the first place, but the untrained eye would be fooled.

"I was called this morning for a rather surprising occurrence: the ministry Aurors thought they had captured an Obscurus. I know that you remember what those are, but Mr Baldwin apparently didn't, as this is not an Obscurus, nor even an Obscurial. Aren just happens to be extremely powerful for her age, to the point where it could be dangerous for herself and others. I have secured the Ministry's agreement, and she will join classes on Monday as a first year."

The four professors were all staring at her like she'd grown three additional arms and another mouth. While the tiny man and the plump woman sported the expression well enough, it looked perfectly absurd on the other teachers' face.

"Albus, you cannot be serious!—" the plum woman started.

"No, I'm Albus." He interjected with a content smile. He pulled another liquorice lollipop out of his pocket, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth.

"Albus, she's five at most, she'll be eaten alive by the other children before she can even learn anything. Can she even read?"

"I assure you, Pomona. Aren is perfectly capable of protecting herself. She's almost eight, by the way. She can read with no problem, and I have gathered that she did that quite a bit to educate herself. She also displays an astounding maturity for her age; you will notice that while your comment annoyed her rather greatly, she did not say a thing — although I can attest that she has quite the sharp tongue. Maybe we should let her express her opinion, hm?"

This time, it was Aren who stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"The fuck do you know about my tongue?" Then she abruptly slapped her hand over her mouth. Don't mouth off to adults, they'll make you pay for it. Don't don't don't. She was surprised to hear Albus softly talk to her.

"Don't worry dear. You're alright, though if you want to be listened to you might want to not use 'fuck', 'hell', 'bastard' and other colourful 'asshole's I've seen you used in the mind the witness the Ministry questioned while looking for you. Does this answer your question?" She nodded.

"Now, I've had you all come here as is the rule for sorting a student. Please wait for a minute." He walked out, probably to fetch that whatever hat he's told her about earlier. The plump woman — Pomona? She was Hufflepuff's head of house then. She looked at her with big eyes.

"You were arrested at barely eight by the ministry? Oh you poor dear, that must have been distressing!" She didn't get the chance to answer as she was smothered into a hug, and her reflexes kicked in. She kneed the woman in the thigh, brutally, and when she yelped, she took the chance to escape her grasp, jumped off the couch, and hid behind it, in the little space left between the back and the wall. Stunned, Pomona took a moment to react, and this left time for panic to take hold of Aren. Don't touch me please . She was beginning to hyperventilate again.

Pomona kneeled in front of the improvised hiding spot.

"Oh no, oh no, I'm sorry dear, I didn't mean to startle you… please, I won't hurt you." The rapid breathing didn't stop. "Oh no, sweetheart, no no you're safe, look," she took several steps back to give space to the girl. Albus came back at that moment. He looked around with an air of surprise as he took in the scene. Filous was standing on his chair, trying to see behind the couch. Minerva was pale but still sitting in hers; Severus was half raised from his seat, wand in hand, looking both shocked and annoyed. Pomona was staring behind the couch, two or three meters away, her cheeks tear-streaked and looking helpless. There was no trace of Aren. He placed the sorting hat on the table, then walked around, standing in front of the space behind the couch, he could see what had them all transfixed.

Aren was sitting curled in a ball, her arms tied around her legs, breathing very fast in shallow puffs of air. Her eyes were wide and unseeing. He could almost see the magic around her, and there was a web of little cracks on the ground around her. Albus crouched down in front of her.

"Aren? My girl, it's alright, you're safe. Remember that little exercise we did in the cell? I'm going to take your hands now, and do that same thing, alright?" He was talking very slowly and in a low, soft voice. He very slowly extended his arms towards her, and a surge of magic lashed at his face again, this time narrowly missing his left eye. He didn't even flinch.

He managed to catch her hands, and placed them as he'd done just that morning: one on her own chest, one on his.

"There. You feel it? In, out… In, out… In, out… There, slowly." The murmuring kept going on for a while, and then the tension of magic in the room slowly ebbed away. "There. Can you come out? There, there. Let's go back to the couch. You're safe."

Aren looked up from her spot slowly, and crawled out of her hiding spot after Albus had scooted back a bit. She stood in the corner against the couch, shoulder hunched and head bowed. Her left hand kept aggressively scratching her right arm.

"... Sorry." She looked up at Pomona, and her face switched from unease to bafflement. "Why are you crying?"

Pomona had a twitch in Aren's direction, but held herself back, still crying. "I scared you. I'm so sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to. I only wanted to take you in my arms…"

"Why would you cry for that? You didn't get hurt… Oh. I'm sorry for your leg."

Pomona shook her head. "That's alright, sweetheart. I'm glad your first reflex is to protect yourself. The fault lies entirely with me." She let a moment pass. "Can I come back closer?"

Aren did not understand that she'd even ask. She nodded, and let herself be guided back to the couch. The tall, strict lady — she guessed it was McGonagall — was dabbing at Albus' left brow bone with a piece of clean fabric she had summoned. She realised she'd hurt Albus again, and guilt gnawed at her gut, as he'd been as responsible for her panic as the table had been: not at all. Albus walked back to the couch and sat next to her.

"Well. Now that this is done, I suggest we move on. Aren, as I said before, this hat is what we use to determine where you would fit most. I will put it on your head, and you will have a silent conversation with it. Is that fine with you?" She nodded again. "Perfect."

He placed the hat on her head softly, and suddenly she felt it move slightly before it slipped over her eyes.

"Aaaaah, young one, you're a bit late, aren't you? " Alba yelped out loud. " Do not fret, child. I am only here to see where you would fit best. Hmmm… You are loyal. You fight for those you hold dear, quite literally to the death. This suggests both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but you are extremely wary of anyone else, so Hufflepuff would maybe not be the best place; you would also be smothered and coddled, and you would not like that, I think."

"No. No that would not work for me. What about Gryffindor?"

"You are brave, that I do not doubt. But your bravery is too strategic, too considered and thought out. They would call you a coward and shun you."

"Oh… that does not seem like a nice place to be."

"It fits others, but not you. Your love of knowledge, your ability to teach yourself, your extensive reading list would make you fit for Ravenclaw, but you are survival-oriented. With all of your verbal crudeness, you are cunning and intelligent, and I think the best fit for you would be SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

There was a prolonged silence, where she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then Albus shook himself, and stood up, before picking the hat from Aren's head.

"Well, there you are. Minerva, Filius, Pomona, I suppose you will want to go back to your previous occupation. Pomona, I do not mean to patronise you but please go to see Mrs Pomfrey."

"I will, thank you. I had planned to go pick up something for one of the new firsties. He's been having nightmares every night, poor dear, and needs the sleep badly."

"Perfect. Severus, then," looking to the very tall man, "I will let you go with your new charge as soon as I've let you know of the situation in as much detail as possible, seeing as this is such an unusual case." Then, turning to Aren, "You will see Pomona, Minerva and Filius — or should I say Professors Sprout, McGonagall and Flitwick — again on Monday."

Aren bowed to them, and all three exited through the door on the right of the fireplace. Pom— Professor Sprout gave her a little wave and a smile before closing the door. She looked at Al, er, she supposed she would have to call him Professor Dumbledore too, and then at Professor… Snape, if she remembered well. She was a bit scared, if she was honest with herself, and her hand discreetly pressed at the waist of her pants, where she had hidden a little dagger. It made her feel safer.

Once everyone else had exited the room, Albus looked back at the both of them.

"Some tea, perhaps? To make the conversation a little more… palatable." Both nodded and he snapped his fingers again to call for Callie. "Callie, can you please get us some chamomile tea?" A nod. "Thank you." The little creature waved its hand, and a teapot appeared out of nowhere, serving tea into three of the glasses on the table. Aren took one and used it to warm her hands, that felt cold despite the warmth of the room. "So, Severus. Aren here, as you gathered earlier, did not grow up in the best conditions. As it is, I think it best that you hear me out before telling her of your infamous 'Slytherin rules'; she also will need a trip to the infirmary as early as possible tomorrow, as I suppose she is already quite drained and will be even more so at the end of our discussion." He turned to Aren with a small smile. "Aren, I am sorry to have to speak of you as if you were not here, and some of what I will say will be brutally honest, but I think it best to give as much relevant information to Professor Snape, that he might ensure your safety in the Slytherin house, and the school in general, to the best of his abilities. Will that be acceptable to you?"

"I… I suppose it's alright. Just. Teachers are okay, and I suppose the nurse too, if you have one, but please don't ever say anything to my classmates. I-If anyone must tell them of anything, I want it to be me."

"That seems quite reasonable. Very well." He turned to Professor Snape. "Aren is an orphan. She was raised in an orphanage called Spurgeon's Orphanage, London. I am sure you remember Marin Abbercrombie? Aren apparently spent the first six years of her life there before it was closed, because of the actions of one Joseph Matthews."

" Spurgeon's ?"

She'd never seen such a white face on someone alive. It was even more brutal than what she'd seen earlier that day at the ice-cream parlor. His voice was a red so dark it was almost dark, and Aren wondered if it was because of the superintendent or because he was angry at having to deal with her. Albus continued, undisturbed in appearance only.

"She then was transferred to another orphanage of which the name she didn't tell me, where she was hit, starved and slaved on a regular basis, and stayed there for roughly six months. She then fled from there from three other children, and lived with them for almost a year until the Ministry caught her this morning for levelling a block in London yesterday night. She has been physically, mentally and sexually abused, and has suffered from quite the neglect. She is now my charge, as that is all I could do to impede her execution, and she will need classes on top of her normal classes to learn to control her magical reserves. Does this make sense thus far?"

"Yes. I will set up the classes in question after we visit Mrs Pomfrey tomorrow. Considering her Magical levels, should we find her separate quarters or put her with the other students?"

"I think until monday morning, private accommodation will be better for her. It will give her space to read the class material studied in class for the first two weeks, as well as give her the time to brace herself for meeting her classmates. That will push back her first contact with her yearmates to monday, in class. The fact that it will be in such a controlled environment is probably for the best. I do believe the first years start with double potions that morning, too, which is rather auspicious, right? In the meantime, I ask you to warn her housemates of her arrival, that they don't take her for an introdure. I will tell Minerva to warn her students that there is a new Slytherin so that they might not be too hostile when they meet her."

"Very well. You realise that no amount of warning the Gryffindor will keep them from being hostile with her? Nor anyone from the other houses."

"One can hope, but I want them to be warned for another reason: the students will know that we are aware and watching out, and will stay put for a bit longer if we do that."

"Fine. In that case, I'm going to introduce her to the rest of her house, then get her to some individual room. We should have some dating back to when the nobles insisted their children had personal quarters. Will that be all?"

"I think so, yes. I encourage you to have a discussion, however. It might make things easier." He finally turned to Aren. "Well, my child, I think all we be well. Now remember what I told you earlier: if you ever need my help, or just want to talk, do not hesitate to come to me. Also know that Professor Snape has a role of counselor and that you can talk to him, as his role is to help and protect you as much as he can. Alright?"

"Alright," acquiesced Aren. Professor Snape got up, and she followed suit.

"I will see you on Monday morning a breakfast, then? Professor Snape will guide you. See you soon, young girl." He said, patting her head softly. He then walked to a door opposite to the one where the teachers had gone through earlier, which Professor Snape was going to now. She trotted to him to not be left behind.

Once out the door, she was met by a large hallway of stone, with arches on the side that elongated to a pointed tip at the top, open to the outside. The hallway was still lit by the evening light of the end of summer, but torches were already lit between the arches. She had to have walk, half trott after Professor Snape, who had started walking again. She tried to keep track of the hallways, and all the turns they took, but she couldn't do both that and keep track of the professor.

They arrived to a statue of a dour man in robes, when suddenly she pulled all the brakes.

"..." she was about to speak, but her breath stayed stuck in her throat. The professor must have heard something, though, because he turned to her.

"Yes?"

"Excuse me sir, but… is Slytherin not associated with decorum and etiquette?"

"It is indeed, Mrs…" he stopped, baffled, then asked "do you have a last name?"

She shook her head. "The institution just registered us under the orphanage's name, but… sir, I'd rather not be named after Spurgeon's?"

"Understandable." A sneer made its way onto his face. "Dumbledore should have thought of that. Normally, taking a ward does not mean their name changes, but seeing as you don't really have one, I suppose I shall introduce you as Aren Dumbledore. As for your clothes-" he swished his wand, "that is a non-issue."

Aren immediately found herself in a set of clean pants, a shirt, and a light robe — she'd learned the name of those things at the clothing shop — and felt cleaner than she had in ages, though she herself had not been cleaned. She looked forward to her first real shower in a year. All set, Professor Snape turned back to the dour man's statue and said " crotalinae ", which caused the statue to turn on itself, revealing an opening in the wall behind it. Professor Snape beckoned her to walk in, and followed after her as she did.

They arrived in a long and dark large room, with torches on the walls supported by what looked like small stone snakes. The walls and floor were all in stone, but the air in the room was distinctly clean and warm. Some light seemed to seep in from the ceiling, which was transparent and apparently underwater. On each end of the long room, there were fireplaces, and Aren wondered if they could be travelled through like the one in the chamber they'd been earlier. Several comfortable-looking couches and chairs were distributed around the room, around low table and chess sets, most of them occupied. The result was a room that felt convivial, with a constant, low murmur of voices that were not loud enough to become a nuisance.

Her observation was interrupted brutally by Professor Snape loudly clapping his hands together to gather the students' attention. This was apparently not unusual, because the students all immediately snapped to attention, then gathered in a half-circle around Professor Snape and her, in silence. She was half-hidden behind the professor, and most of the students hadn't noticed her, but she knew that wouldn't last.

"Slytherins, I am here tonight to introduce you to a new student that joined us tonight. She will only be officially moving in the dorms on monday night, but I prefer giving you a warning, effective immediately. You will notice that she is much younger than all of you. That is not an excuse to exclude her from the life of the house. What is the first rule of Slytherin?"

"Your House is your family. Family stands together." The group answered dutifully.

"Good. Another thing: she has started Hogwarts so early for safety reasons. For your continued health and that of others, I advise you to watch over her like you would a blood-sibling: she has high levels of magic and might accidentally unleash it if put in a distressing conversation, especially considering that she has extremely sharp reflexes. Do not underestimate her intellect, though, as she has been tested for the same knowledge new student usually have to know, and will only have to catch up on the first two weeks of class. Now, I am going to show Miss Dumbledore to the dorm; you will be free to ask her question when she joins class on monday. Dismissed."

As soon as he said that, the students turned to each other in groups of three or four to discuss what had been said, and the noise levels raised so fast that Professor Snape had to call for order again.

"This will not be an excuse to breach the rules of propriety! You will conduct yourselves like proud members of the Slytherin house and not like a wild pack of gossips!" The students were now silent, or whispering softly to each other as before; a couple of them were trying to look around the professor to see her, and unlike what she had expected, those were not the youngest.

They finally dispersed, and the professor drove her to a hallway on the opposite side of the room. At the end of the hallway was a door, with what looked like a blackboard next to it. On it were listed rooms labelled 'Year 1 room 1', 'Year 1 room 2'... and so on with four rooms per year and seven years total. Considering the group of students she had just seen, she estimated the number of students to be between four and five depending on the room.

Professor Snape tapped the 'Year 1 room 2' on the board, then pushed the door open. It freed the view to five beds, two of which were unoccupied; they were tall column beds, with black curtains around them. The bedsheets were white with green embroideries around the edges, and there were night-tables near the head of each bed. Against the walls on both sides were drawer desks, two on the left and three on the right; two of them were clearly used regularly, and a third one was obsessively clean.

"This will be your room starting from Monday. You are free to use whichever of the two free beds and desks you prefer, but you are expected to keep your space clean and sorted; I will have a word with your future dorm-mates later."

They exited the room, back to where they had entered the common room before, and the professor showed her in passing the notice board. "You will find here notices about tutoring, changes in timetables, events, and any information pertaining to the school life that you might need to know."

He then guided her down through several hallways out of the house, left, right, right, to a dark wooden door in a sort of dead-end; there was another door, closed. The professor pointed towards it.

"This is a less well-known entrance to my office. Students can come to me there during office hours, and at any time in case of emergency. I have wards in place telling me when a student needs help."

He turned to the other door, and opened it, giving her space to enter. She did so, and immediately turned to him. She would explore her temporary quarters later, and she didn't like having anyone at her back anyway.

"Breakfast is from 6:00 to 8:00, lunch from 11:30 to 12:45, dinner from 18:00 to 20:30. If you do not come to the Great Hall to see to your own meals, you will not be provided with food unless extenuating circumstances are provided. I've placed you in this particular room because it will protect you from overly curious classmates until Monday."

"Sir? How will I find my way to the great hall then?"

"I will guide you there on Monday morning. You will have your meals delivered in here until then. You have no way to lock this room as the statue does for Slytherin, but that is why I gave you those rooms: students rarely come over here, and I'll be nearby in case you find yourself in a dangerous situation."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I suggest you get some rest now. You will have a lot to catch up on tomorrow, although it will mostly be reading, and you will need a fresh mind for that. And that's not even counting how exhausting the day must have been. I will come in the morning with a list of what points you should most focus on in your readings; in the meantime, good night, Miss Dumbledore."

"Good night, Sir."

He turned on his heels and closed the door behind him. Aren turned to the room, surprised to see that her trunk was already here as well as Duister, Who was curled in a ball on her simple bed. The only other furniture in the room was a table that probably was meant to double as a desk.

She took off the clothes Professor Snape had spelled on her, relieved to see that her dagger was still hidden in her waistband. She slid it under her pillow, and sat down for a minute, petting Ster. She fully intended to go clean herself, but her weariness caught up to her and she slumped on her covers, immediately falling asleep.

Duister made a little surprise trill, then moved closer to her little human; she curled into a ball again, pressed against her neck and her cheek, and started loudly purring before falling asleep as well. Neither of them stirred until dawn.


	4. Chapter 4

Aren was running after Professor Snape, trying very hard to not be distanced while still making note of where she was and where they were going. She had woken up early to make sure that she would not leave the professor waiting, and had almost been late anyway because Duister had seemed very intent on following her everywhere. She had given up, thinking that if there was a problem with it, the professor would tell her. This was why they were now walking, or running in Aren and Ster's case, to the Great Hall, which she would see for the first time.

She'd spent the previous day reading up on the classed she had missed so far. Thankfully, there was no text to read on flying, and those classes had not even started yet. Neither had astrology, since the days were still too long to successfully manage in the middle of the week. History of magic would not be before Thursday, as were herbology and defense against the dark arts. Monday would start with Potions, three hours, then lunch, then two hours of transfiguration, then one of charms, and so she had mostly focussed on these subjects. It was fascinating, and she was curious to see how it could fit in with her vision of sciences, as she was convinced the notions of magic and science were not mutually exclusive.

They reached a large double door, held open, behind which stood the weirdest room Aren had ever seen. Immense, with four tables aligned along the length of the room, candles floating everywhere, and the ceiling . It looked like the sky, a real sky — she was relatively convinced it was not real considering the hall was pleasantly warm — and was tinted in the orange and pink hues of the rising sun. It was, after all, only half past six.

Professor Snape guided her to the left-most table where other students with green-lined robes were eating. Their table was the fullest; the other houses apparently favoured a later breakfast. She sat down near another girl, who looked like she was among the youngest, and the professor nodded before going to the table that sat perpendicular to the house tables, overseeing everything. It was obviously the staff's table.

The girl she was next to turned to her, and offered her hand in greetings.

"Hello, I'm Astoria Greengrass. Welcome to Slytherin, and to Hogwarts, I suppose." Aren squinted at her hand, but seeing no valid reason to refuse, shook it in a sort of agreement.

"I'm Aren. Dumbledore."

"Are you really the headmaster's relative? You have the same white hair and blue eyes. The other Slytherins spent the day speculating, yesterday."

"No, no. I've been made his ward, the day Professor Snape introduced me. I took his name, but I'm just his responsibility."

"Oh. That's weird? Usually, wards keep their original name upon registration as ward."

"Didn't have a name." She took what looked like hash browns, a small portion. It all seemed very good, and the smell was a torture, but she knew if she ate too much she'd make herself sick. She'd made the mistake the day before already. "I needed one for administrative purposes, so they just gave me Albu— the headmaster's."

"No name? Why? Were you scratched off your family tree?"

"What? No. I just don't know my name. Never have. Aren's probably not even my birth name."

Greengrass was watching her with eyes round like tea cups. " You don't know your family? " It wasn't really a screech, but it was loud enough to be heard by most of the table and some from the one nearby. They wore yellow-lined robes, although she wasn't sure what that made them. After Greengrass' outburst, she slapped her hand on her mouth, and looked around her. The table was silent for a couple seconds, then everyone started talking with everyone, resulting in a loud cacophony of voices. Aren covered her ears with her hands; she'd never tolerated loud noises very well.

"Shhhhh please. Too loud. No I don't. Is that a problem?" She knew she sounded mullish now, but she haded being looked down upon or pitied, and this sounded like it would come to that quickly if she did not put a stop to it immediately. Greengrass looked around them, but the students were too busy talking to each other about Aren to notice much anymore.

"Not for me, no, but most Slytherins put a lot of stock in 'good breeding'. If you were a pureblood, you'd have nothing to fear, but if you don't know, then you'll be worth as much as a mudblood to the, meaning exactly nothing. Zilch. Nada."

"Mudblood?"

"It's a slur for muggleborn wizards. Pureblood families can be traced back a lot of generations. The Greengrass family, for example, is one of the sacred twenty-eight, meaning our line can be traced back almost to Merlin's time, with no muggles in the direct line at all. The sacred twenty-eight also include the Blacks, the Malfoys, the Abbotts, the Parkinsons, the Notts…"

"That sounds like a very good way to create issues with in-breeding."

Another girl, with a pointy nose and slanted eyes, dark hair, and her chin pointed up in an obviously disdainful way, heard her. "And what would you know about that? You've obviously not been raised in our world if you need to have that explained to you!"

"Basic genetics, but it appears that's beyond your abilities." A fleeting look of confusions on the girl's face was quickly replaced with an expression of anger and disgust.

"I can't even understand how a girl like you can be accepted into Hogwarts, much less in the excellent house of Slytherin. Draco will no doubt tell his father that Dumbledore admitted a five years old, and you'll be expulsed within a week."

Aren did not even grace that with an answer, partly because she knew she was right and didn't want to lose her temper already, and partly because part of her did fear being expulsed. This was probably her best shot at a safe place and an education, and she didn't want it to get ruined because she was unable to keep her head down. Like you did with Phil— No.

Her appetite was gone, and she turned to Greengrass to see that she was finished, so she followed the girl out.

"You know," her housemate started, "I don't have much of a problem with it myself, but you might want to tone down your words near the other Slytherins. They really can make your life hell, at Hogwarts and after."

"I have a slight filter problem. And I've been told I have a temper too. I'll try to watch it, but I wouldn't hold by breath if I were you." She stopped in her following Greengrass, "Wait, are we even in the same year?"

"Yes, I'm a first year. You start with potions, right? We're paired with the Gryffindor. That'll be a trial alright."

"Yes. Good, I don't have any idea where I'm supposed to go." Greengrass smiled at her.

"Is it alright if I call you Aren? Calling you Dumbledore is really disturbing."

"Just fine with me. As I said, i didn't have a last name until two days ago, so people called me Aren anyway."

"How is that by the way? You didn't say."

"Grew up in an orphanage," Aren shrugged, "and then in the streets. A name was the last of my concerns."

"Oh…"

An awkward silence replaced the steady talking while they made their way to wherever potions would happen.

* * *

Potions was the book she'd most focussed on, reading the first chapters three or four times, simply because she'd known she would have lunch break to read the rest over. She found herself grateful for that foresight, because it turned out that Professor Snape was particularly exacting. That day, they were supposed to brew a cure for boils, which she could remember clearly enough from her readings the day before.

They started by crushing 6 snake fangs into a fine powder using a mortar and pestle. Once the powder was fine enough, she added four measures of it to the boiling water in the cauldron. It immediately became an opaque white, then after being exposed to the heat, at 250°C for ten seconds, a light green. They then had to wave the tip of their wand over the cauldron in a sort of three-branch star-shaped movement above the mixture while stirring with a rod. They then left the potion to brew For precisely thirty-nine minutes, during which the professor explained to them the importance of dried nettles in potion-brewing. They returned to brewing after that time, adding four whole horned slugs of medium size, which turned the potion more fluid and a surprising shade of turquoise; once everyone had added theirs, they took their cauldrons off the fire, then added two porcupine quills between twelve and sixteen centimetres long. This did not change the aspect of the potion, but stirring clockwise five times did: the potion turned slightly more thick and a brilliant red.

Considering the words of the teacher earlier, Aren decided to add — carefully, she didn't want to have a reaction — three leaves of dried nettle to the potion, before repeating the wand-waving from earlier for twenty-seven seconds. Her potion was now a pale red, almost pink, and distinctly gel-like.

The professor was going through the ranks, considering the potions of everyone. As there were seven Slytherins and about a dozen Gryffindors, Aren expected that to take a while, but he was breezing through the ranks, only stopping to grunt at particularly well done potions or to verbally annihilate those who had visibly failed.

When he reached her, he did stop for a couple seconds, then took her stirring rod and gave a stir to the almost paste-like potion. He lifted some of it on the rod to his (rather impressive) nose to smell it, then placed the rod back in, and turned to her and asked in a slow, smooth and deep voice that, given the circumstances, could only pass as ominous:

"Miss Dumbledore, can you tell me why this potion is so light and thick? I believe the book said 'red liquid, slightly sirupy'."

"I added three leaves of dried nettles, sir."

"And why is that?"

"Because as you said earlier, it helps clean contaminated bodies, infections, if boosts the efficiency of snake-based potions, and increases the thickness of the potion, which would be helpful for potions that have to be applied topically, such as the boil cure potion."

"That is correct. And why three leaves?"

"Because two leaves would have made too little of a difference; however, more than three would have caused a nefarious reaction with the horned slugs' skin, most probably… explosively so."

Professor Snape looked reluctantly impressed. He turned wordlessly, and it took him a minute to finish his inspection of the class' potions. He then went back to the front of the classroom.

"Miss Vane, Miss Dumbledore, please bring me a sample of your work. We will test them on these two toads."

They both complied, bottling a small amount of the potions in glass flasks the size of their fists. This was a considerably more complex process for Aren, as her potion was so thick that it refused to flow. They labelled them and brought them forward, and the professor started by showing them the first toad, before applying Vane's potion to its back then massaging it into the back of the animal. He then proceeded the same way with Aren's on the other toad. He set them to wait for a full minute, before showing the students the difference between the two toads.

Vane's toad had one or two fewer boils, and the others were a bit less prominent, but the differences were minimal. Aren's toad, however, had a completely smooth back, and only darker-coloured patches could be seen on the skin where boils had been before. She supposed she still had messed up something in her potion, but it was markedly better than Vane's.

"This", Professor Snape snapped at them, showing them Aren's toad "is what I expect of you all in this class. I do not care how well you can follow instructions, you pack of degenerated dunderhead, but how well you can use your brain. None of you considered why I decided to present this particular ingredient to you at this particular time?"

Some of the Gryffindor were already glaring at Aren, but most of the students were just shaking their heads at the professor.

"All of you will have to write two feet and a half on the properties, use, and effects of nettle, dried and fresh, for next class." He turned to Aren, "Miss Dumbledore, as you are exempt from handing in this homework, as you obviously listened and retained information during the lecture." Then, to the rest of the class, he snapped, in the typical smooth but ominous tones the students associated with him: "Dismissed! I've seen enough of you for the week, regardless of the fact that I'll have to see you all again in three days."

The class scampered off. She had barely passed the door when she heard one of the other student, a Gryffindor most probably, mutter a venomous "Old Snape's already playing favourites, and this time it's with a baby snake". They received a death glare from several of the other first year Slytherins; but when Aren turned towards the direction the voice had come from, she saw Vane surrounded by a circle of Gryffindors mumbling in agreement. She was surprised to see Greengrass, who she'd pegged as the awkward, timid type, glaring at the Gryffindors with her fists balled at her sides.

Aren grabbed her by the elbow, and once she had the girl's attention, she slowly shook her head. If she'd learned anything in the street, it was to avoid unnecessary fights. "It's not worth it," she whispered to Greengrass. The girl looked at her, her eyebrows arched in a decidedly plaintive manner, screaming the "but…" that she didn't say. She looked at Aren for a bit more, then back at the Gryffindors walking in the opposite direction in a pack, before capitulating. "I suppose you're right…"

When they turned back to where they were supposed to go next, they saw that the Slytherins had already left for lunch, leaving the two of them and a tall but sickly looking boy alone in the hallway. When Aren cocked her head at him to see his face — she was almost twice as tall as her —, she was met with a look of disdain so strong she almost flinched. I suppose offering to go to the great hall with him is moot then. She didn't show her discomfort, out of pure habit, but looked to Greengrass who, two weeks after the beginning of term, probably knew where to find the Great Hall.

Greengrass was glaring back at the gangly boy, and Aren was surprised to see the girl so vehement, even without words. She tugged at her elbow once more.

"C'mon Greengrass, if we're late for lunch we'll have to choose between eating and being on time for transfiguration. I don't know Professor McGonagall yet, but she doesn't seem the type to like tardy students nor growly stomachs during her lecture."

"... Right. Let's go." She started swiftly walking, leaving the boy behind. Turning back for a minute, she could see that the boy was still at the door, actually going back into the classroom. "And please, call me Astoria, or whatever nickname as long as it's not demeaning. Greengrass is my big sister — she's a third year Slytherin — and being called that feels reaaaally weird."

"Alright… Tori? Would that be alright with you? Sorry of the lack of decorum but I'd risk butchering your name otherwise."

She was greeted by a blinding grin.

"Yes!"

They resumed their trek to the Great Hall, almost falling off the moving staircases twice.

* * *

Transfiguration was f***ing awesome . Apparently, she'd already missed the 'turning matchstick into needles', which she had been looking forward too. She thought such a difficult subject would require more than two weeks of preliminary theory, but it seemed Professor McGonagall preferred a hand-on approach, mixing practical exercise with theory for a wholesome comprehension of the subject. Aren wasn't going to complain about that; she did tend to progress much faster when she did , be it theory or practical work, than when she heard of something.

That still meant she had two weeks of lag to catch up, and that when the rest of the class successfully turned a full box of matchsticks into needles, she could only transfigure three or four of them. McGonagall still looked distantly impressed with her work, which Aren took as a compliment considering how stern and strict the woman appeared.

Charms, on the other hand, had been nothing short of a disaster. She had managed to make her pencil circle on her desk alright, but it seemed to keep trying to point at one of the Ravenclaws then shooting off. The swift professor stopped it every time, but it began to get tedious after two or three times. Professor Flitwick had even kept her for a bit after class to see with her if she'd had any trouble with the student in question. Aren denied it, of course; she didn't even know them. The only faces she knew to tell apart from the crowd right now were that of Gree— Tori, the girl with a pointed nose and slanted eyes from breakfast, Vane in Gryffindor, and the boy after potions.

She'd finished the day exhausted, though, both physically and mentally. It was the first time she was actually getting to class, and concentrating on all the information while still reflexively jumping at and keeping track of everything was extremely taxing. Her magic however, as she assumed the thing had been her magic all along, seemed perfectly fine. Not the slightest trace of exhaustion. She supposed it was good, in a way; that would have been one more type of exhaustion to stack on the rest, and she was already tired enough, thank you. Still, it seemed much calmer than before, and she didn't have to actually fight to keep it in. That hadn't happened since it had awoken in the back street. With the hag and the wall—No. Don't go there.

She skipped dinner altogether, and went back down to her common room to start on her reading for the next day. They had two more hours of transfiguration, then a free period, and history of magic for two hours the next day, which meant that she had to practice her transfiguration spell and theory some more this evening, and read ahead on the history book. Nevermind that Greengra— Tori had told her that Professor Binns just kept going on about the Goblin Wars and never gave any care to the actual curriculum. And also that the professor was a ghost in the first place and probably couldn't harm her even if she failed.

She practiced her transfiguration for an hour, before finally going to her bed and starting on her reading. Apparently, wizards had existed well before muggles appeared, or rather, muggles existed at the same time as the squib children of wizarding families. But back then, the survival rate for such children was extremely low. It was only with the sedentarisation of man and the development of tools and support structures in a group that they started surviving. Where wizarding families only had two or three children surviving before, they now had six or seven children, half of which were squibs.

At some point, the divide in opinion grew so much than squibs and wizards went separate ways, and squibs forgot little by little where they came from; as their numbers grew exponentially, they forgot the tales of their ancestors. And since the wizards ended up being so few; even the occasional squib arriving in a village did not bring back the lore to their memory.

Seeing this, the Wizarding world retreated further into the shadows, and factions appeared within their community. Strangely enough, it happened almost simultaneously over the whole world, with at most 50 years of difference depending on the region of the planet, and by Aren's estimations, dated back to the decline of Rome. Two main faction were formed: the blood purists, who considered that intermixing with squibs would weaken them little by little by 'diluting their magical blood' and cause the extinction of the 'wizarding race'; and the pro-diversity, who considered that by only marrying wizards and witches, they were condemning themselves by poisoning of the blood and of their wizarding cores.

The two faction cohabitated for roughly three centuries, but the peace was disrupted by an epidemy of magical core leprosy; it affected mostly children, but their failing cores led to a definitive loss of magic. Some survived as squibs, but most of them died, their bodies unable to sustain themselves without their inherent magic. Since their population was severely decreased, they were in a position of weakness, and the blood purist faction took the chance to promote distancing themselves further from the muggle world. They pointed out — without any proof whatsoever — that the disease was probably brought back from the muggle world, where the children were unaffected because naturally magic-less, but probably hosts to the sickness in the first place.

The leader of both factions came to an agreement that took the name of Statute of Secrecy: wizards would stay away from muggles as much as possible, and to keep Muggles from seeking them out, they were to keep their nature an absolute secret. Only in the case of matrimony, and when it produced children of a magical nature, was the wizard of the family allowed to reveal their nature to their close ones.

At that point, Aren had been too tired and had fallen asleep with her book open in her lap, and she never heard her roommates coming back into the room.

* * *

By the end of her first month at Hogwarts, most of Slytherin was wondering why Aren had been sorted into Slytherin at all.

She was never seen without a book; to be perfectly accurate, she was never seen not reading a book outside of class. Additionally, she had no consideration for the rules their head of house had laid out for them. She had already punched a Slytherin twice in front of witnesses, once in front of two Hufflepuffs, once in front of two Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw. Within the house, she had no close friend; even Greengrass, to whom she'd been friendly at first, seemed to be barely more than an acquaintance. Aren cared little for their considerations. She was interested in two things only: survival, and learning.

She'd realised early enough that training with her magic was what kept it under control, and that was why that week-end, she was going to see Albus to see if he had a place where she could go full-power without risking the safety of the other children. She also secretly hoped it would let her take her frustration out on something that wasn't as fragile as another student, because Parkinson — the girl with a sharp nose and slanted eyes — kept pestering her and demeaning her and everything she could to make Aren feel inferior. Most of the school's first years had taken to calling her "baby snake", and Parkinson had thought that so funny that, in the privacy of their house, she'd gotten most of the second to sixth years to call her that too. One of the seventh year prefects had tried to call her that, too, but as a term of endearment. She'd been shut down faster than Aren could slip her hand in a passer-by's pocket: she had her dignity, thank you very much.

As Aren was walking towards the exit to go see Albus, her reflexion was interrupted by Parkinson's voice. It sounded strident even at low volume, and she cringed.

"Hey, baby snake, where are you going?"

"I have to discuss something with my guardian. Administrative matters. Now if you'll excuse me…"

"That's it, run to Dumbles! I'm sure that he'll listen to your immature weeping and grant your request. Afterall, he's already allowed a baby into Hogwarts so it's not like refusing you anything at this point is likely, right?"

Aren twisted around on her feet, her face a mask of cold fury.

"If you'd taken the time to fill your brain with anything but cosmetics and how-best-to-get-into-Malfoy's-pants to secure a bonding between your families, you'd know that I'm by far not the first example of a student being accepted into Hogwarts early for safety reasons; it is customary that children that exhibit violent bouts of uncontrolled magic between the ages of eight and eleven are taken in immediately. Furthermore, it's not like I've been lagging behind in classes, be it in theory or in practice; your assumption that I do not have my place here is as misguided as thinking that Mr Hagrid will suddenly naturally sprout wings and start flying." She'd gotten closer to the older girl, and venomously added, "Besides, considering how spoiled rotten you are by your parents, I'd say 'Hi pot, I'm kettle'. You have no room to slander my character, or my guardian's."

She turned again, and walked out without exactly stomping her feet, as her posture was much too dignified for that, but her steps made a snapping 'tap' on the stone that almost resembled the sound of a whip to all those who had witnessed her little diatribe. As she was passing the Dour Man, she heard behind her:

"You know Pansy, I think you should stop confronting her up front like that. Be Slytherin about it. She's Dumbledore's ward, and if she gets him really on her side, you'll be in trouble. He's not just headmas—" and the the statue turned behind her, cutting off the voice of the boy who had been talking to Parkinson. Sound advice this one gave.

She slowly made her way to Albus' office, having long memorised the way between the common room and there. She told the gargoyle her personal password, Pistache , and went up the stairs to her guardian. She knocked on the large wooden door, and heard the muffled 'Enter' from the other side. She stepped in, settled in her customary seat, and immediately Fawkes went to settle in her lap, softly trilling. Aren visibly relaxed, to Albus' satisfaction. The bird had taken an intense liking to the little girl, to the old man's stupefaction.

Calmed by the bird's presence, and her magic relatively under control, she went into the topic she wanted to discuss bluntly.

"Albus, is there any place in the castle where I might go all out for a couple hours? I think regular practice helps with keeping the outbursts from happening, but I still feel it just below the surface, and I think it could help with that. Plus, it'd be nice to know my limits."

"I don't see a problem with that? I'll see with the teachers if they can think of an appropriate place. We'll ward it for more safety. Sadly, I have been extremely busy as of late. Minister Fudge — you remember him, I'm sure?" She nodded. "He has been insisting that we let the dementors closer to the school. That is out of the question, of course, but it required quite the fine bit of negotiation, and that means I have to do a lot of back and forth between here and the Ministry."

"How will this work then, sir?"

"Well, assuming your head of house would agree to watch over you, and I don't see why he wouldn't, then he would be the one. Does that pose a problem?"

"Not at all, sir. I'm more worried for him than for myself. The last time something happened—" she shut down brutally. She wasn't ready to recount that. Not yet.

"Very noble of you, my girl. Now, would it be alright if I asked you to deliver a message to the four head of houses? That will let me work in the meantime, and our problem will be solved all the faster."

"Of course!" She was beaming at him.

Five minutes later, she was patting goodbye a Fawkes reluctant to let her go, then went to deliver her missive to the teachers. Professor Snape had been particularly hard to find, until she had remembered the back door that was warded to let the man know someone was there. She had to look for a while to find her way back there, and once she'd found the office, she delivered the note to a cranky-looking professor. Done with her task, she stopped by the kitchens — she'd discovered them by the end of september, or rather she'd spotted a pair of Gryffindor red-haired twins sneaking in there — and got herself a loaf of cheese-bread and a little bottle of pumpkin juice, then went back to the tower.

There, she scampered to her bed, closed the curtains, and settled to nibble on her bed while reading. Ster climbed the bed to snuggle in her lap, and she extended her legs to let the small cat snuggle in but the feline had other ideas. She started heabutting Aren in the chin, and the later just gave up on reading for that night, instead snuggling with her face in the fur of her familiar, her simple meal forgotten to the side.

Snuggling with Ster, who definitely smelled better than whatever place they'd found to sleep in the streets, and never left her, was probably the best thing she'd gotten out of this whole schooling thing.


	5. Chapter 5

One week later, Professor Snape interrupted a debate in the common room on saturday, just after lunch. Aren didn't notice it immediately, because she was ensconced in a book about the possibility of language charms and their possible effects on the brain.

"Miss Dumbledore, follow me."

She turned a page.

"Miss Dumbledore, before next month, thank you"

She jumped like someone had popped a bottle open close to her ear, and looked at the professor. "Yes, Sir?"

"Miss Dumbledore, follow me out. Your guardian has made it known that you had something to be tested for."

She got up, confused, and followed him out of the common room, the rest of the Slytherins watching her back as it passed the Dour Man. He took her to his office, and after throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, said "Duelling Hall". He looked at Aren, clearly expecting something, and she stepped into the fire. She twisted for all of two instants, but it still made her feel all queasy when she got out. She got out of the way of the fireplace just in time for Professor Snape to step out of the fire.

With a wave of his wand, he smothered the flames, then summoned two simple chairs for them to sit in.

"Miss Dumbledore, the headmaster has let me know that your… unusual magical levels could be mitigated by what one might crudely call 'a work-out', and asked me to provide you with the place to do so, proper supervision, and should you be motivated, further teaching. While I cannot say anything for this last point, does this place fit for your idea of a 'work-out'?" his voice was slightly sarcastic, but not agressive, like he was holding the mocking back until she complained.

The room was rather spacious, with a tall ceiling and windows; the stone walls were dotted with torches, as they were everywhere in the castle, but here there were no tapestries, no furniture, no carpets, nothing at all beyond the walls, windows, torches, and the two seats the professor had summoned. It was a perfect rectangle, with no alcoves or asperities in the walls; it was rather cold, both in aspect and in temperature.

"Ummm… Sir?"

"Yes, Miss Dumbledore?"

"Is there any way you could have a dummy or something like that appear? Like you did for the seats?"

"That is most definitely within the scope of my competences, Miss Dumbledore. May I ask why?"

"It's easier to avoid targeting you if there's another target in the room, I think. I'm not sure. It's the first time I try this on purpose."

"I would be surprised if you could even breach my first shield, but very well. Your foresight is commendable, 5 points to Slytherins for looking out for others." He waved his wand, and a wooden dummy that looked a bit worn out and really not solid appeared in the center of the room. When she looked around again, Aren noticed that the two chairs were gone.

"For the sake of keeping you safe, I will be three meters away from you under a shield; if I see you put yourself in any sort of danger, I will interrupt you immediately and we will not reconnect this little experiment. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir. But…" Professor Snape sighed at her interrupting mid-sentence.

"Yes, Miss Dumbledore?"

"Are you sure this dummy will be solid enough?"

"You are a first year, Miss Dumbledore. Even taking into account your stronger than average magical levels, you do not have the spell knowledge to do much damage. This shall suffice."

Aren looked at him again, then back at the dummy. She took a deep breath, and steeled herself, then started unknotting her muscles and nerves from around the thing. She hoped the dummy held…

* * *

Severus Snape took four steps back, to be at the distance from the child that he'd described to her a few moments before. He gave a glance at her, as she seemed to be concentrating to start casting, so he let himself evaluate what he had learned about her in the past five weeks.

He'd had strong reservations about her when she'd arrived. As if that bloody Harry F***ing Potter was not enough of an exception, Albus had found a way to legally smuggle a child that was not even eight yet, from what he'd gathered, into the castle.

But where he'd expected an immature child, prone to tantrums and tears as brats this age all are, he'd gotten a silent child, who preferred to stay away from her year-mates and upperclassmen to read books — in a way that reminded him a bit too much of himself for comfort — and had surpassed most of the other students within a week and a half.

What the hell was she doing in Slytherin?

She had a sharp tongue, but not in a traditionally Slytherin way. It was more of a massive sword than a subtle dagger, if he dared keep up the blade analogy. She had a very sound logic, and a rather extensive knowledge to back it up if necessary, but her words themselves were crude and unrefined. He'd stopped counting how many times he'd wanted to wash her mouth with black soap.

Furthermore, she seemed to have issue with the "Slytherin is family, standing together in a united front in public" part of the code that had already been in place before he'd attended Hogwarts himself.

She had already punched Tonjo Bywater twice, once in the guts and once in the crotch — well, that was more of a knee than a punch — in front of other student, and both times he had found nothing that would warrant her punition. She had been smart about it, definitely sly, even if her behaviour seemed to indicate that she wasn't fit for the house. Each time, there had been a legitimate reason.

The first had been for cornering a first year Hufflepuff a turn away from the entrance of the great hall. Bywater had been towering over the little girl, and she'd looked ready to cry when Dumbledore had tapped him on the shoulder (a feat, considering how small she is and how tall he is). When he'd turned, she'd jammed her fist into his stomach, strong enough to make the boy double over and dry-heave. Sure, he was only a fourth year, but that still looked like a good punch from someone so small.

The second occasion had been while returning from the green houses after Herbology. Apparently, the youngest Greengrass and a Ravenclaw had walked with her past Bywater, before the later had pushed himself off the tree he'd been leaning on, walking leisurely to the greenhouses they just came from. According to Greengrass, Dumbledore had immediately started looking around, and then said "Landmere fell back" before taking off towards the older boy and the greenhouses. There, Bywater had been talking in hissing tones that were apparently meant to be enticing, with his hand fiddling with a strand of the Ravenclaw first year's hair, when Dumbledore had reached him, and swung her knee from his side right into his nether parts. Both Ravenclaws had gaped like they wanted to swallow a whole snake, and Greengrass had merely sighed at her, according to the memories he'd seen.

Of course, Bywater's behaviour was concerning, but they had no real proof either that he actually was taking part in nefarious activities; and as Dumbledore had just acted out of concern for a classmate, not even in her own house, the rest of the faculty was inclined to felicitate her rather than chastise her.

He was brought back to the present by the girl finally moving her wand arm, and giving a single slash in the air, directed at the dummy. The thing immediately exploded . Wha— ?

When he made to step a bit closer to make sure she was alright, she turned towards him and instead of trying to invent an excuse for the accident, she took a sort of defensive stance, her wand ill-fitting in her hand as she seemed to not know whether to hold him properly at point blank with it or if she wanted to make fists of her little hands to punch him if he got too close.

Definitely a remnant of her life in the streets.

"Do not panic, Miss Dumbledore. I merely wish to make sure that you are safe." She lowered her arms but still stared at him with large eyes made even larger by her emaciated face. She had put on some weight in the last weeks, but he feared she'd always remain slight and physically fragile, at least in the defensive department. Offensively speaking, she seemed to have all the power she needed. He ran a quick medical scan that all professor were expected to know before taking their position, and after making sure she was safe and unhurt, he turned to the dummy. Well, what was left of it.

"Miss Dumbledore, can you explain to me what just happened?"

"Sir, I'm sorry, I told you it was to fragile and I didn't mean to actually destroy it but the thing is hard to control and—" she was wringing her fingers together, as if she wanted to turn them around. "I try, but also the purpose is to go all out because I have to spend the magic so the thing won't attack other student."

"The… What do you mean by ' the thing ', Miss Dumbledore?"

"The magic, at least I think it's what this is. Before I came here it was almost impossible to control, and that's what made me destroy a block in London, apparently."

"You destroyed… a block? In London?" He felt himself pale as she nodded.

"It got better when I came here though. It's like the it gets drained a bit by all the exercises we do in class, so I asked Alb- the Headmaster if I could sort of exhaust my magic so that it wouldn't be as much as a risk."

"But didn't you just say that it was manageable now that you're here?"

"It is, but I don't want to take a risk with that. Plus it also depends on the day so what if one day we do less and I have too much and I hurt someone?" She winced visibly. Ah, her concern appeared to not be entirely hypothetical.

"So if I understand this well, you want me to put something as resilient as I can make it for you to try your hardest at destroying it anyway?"

"…Yes?"

He breathed out through his nose.

"Very well. But please, next time, be more forthcoming with the details. Now that I think of it, what spell did you use?"

"I didn't, sir. I just… stopped gripping at it as much." He blinked.

"If I were to make you try a few thing, would you be amenable?" She cocked her head on the side, thinking over what he said, then looked at him in incomprehension. "I want to ask you to unleash your magic in such and such way, so that I can verify a theory I just came up with." That was a partial lie. He did not have theories, he was merely curious.

"I guess, yes. What do you want me to do first?"

"I'd like you to try to attack without a wand."

"Just that?" one of her eyebrows lifted. If he hadn't just seen her power, he'd have called her arrogant and conceited. As it were, he though she was really puzzled by his required something that she considered easy.

She turned to the dummy, and put the wand back in her right sleeve — an unusual choice — before extending her left arm fist-closed towards a newly-summoned dummy. This one looked a good bit sturdier, and he knew it was actually at least three or four times more solid. She simply opened her fist, and the new dummy exploded, like its predecessor.

"Ummm… Oops?" She looked at him as if she expected him to bite her.

"That is quite alright, Miss Dumbledore. You did but what I asked you to." He summoned another dummy, stronger again, and continued. "As you can obviously deliver without using your wand, would you be alright we doing the following exercises wandlessly as well?"

"Hm-hm?" she nodded.

"Perfect. Now, this looked very much like you were still trying to reign it in. If your objective is to drain your excess magic, you might want to actually push it out." This snot-nosed brat could almost be of bearable company. And experimenting on a student was a rather big bonus. "But let us go at this more progressively. First, just let it flow out."

"In that case, sir, I think you'd better make several dummies- maybe three or four?" He stared at her then complied, and she added a timid "and maybe step farther away…" he complies "and add shields? Please?"

He had to put some energy into not rolling his eyes, but still did as she asked… and he was glad he had. The child closed her eyes, and suddenly he could see the difference. The tension left her totally, her fists opened, her shoulders switched from hunched over to slumped, her head lolled the tiniest bit and the pinched expression around her eyes that he had never noticed before disappeared.

The four dummies he'd summoned were instantly smashed, leaving behind only four little piles of shimmery grey dust, and he felt a considerable pressure around his outer shield. The first two layers were destroyed immediately, the third gave in after a few seconds of resistance, and the fourth vacillated, but held. The fifth, the one he kept on at all time as much for Death Eaters as he did for annoying, unskilled brats in a potion lab, was never reached, but he had not even considered the fact that Dumbledore might crush more than the first layer and weaken the second. He was not omnipotent, of course, but he was still rather powerful compared to the average wizard, and it should have held more easily than that.

He had not moved, but somehow the girl had felt the dissolution of his shield and was looking at him like she'd just accidentally killed him. Her face was a study in whites, and that was saying something considering that she appeared to be an actual albino.

"That was enlightening," was all he found to say in his surprise. "Would you care for a last test, then?"

"I-I would rather not, Sir. I can feel the difference, it should be s-safe for several weeks, I think, I hope." She was obviously scared of her own power, and he could not really blame her. To be perfectly fair, because yes he sometimes was, he'd probably have had the same reaction as her if he'd been in her boots.

"Perfect. Thank you for your compliance, Miss Dumbledore. I hope we will get to test more things next time." He thought for a second, "how often do you think this should be done? I cannot feel your magical levels like I should be able to."

"I can't tell right now, Sir. I suppose it depends on the speed at which it regenerates. Can I tell you in a week?"

"That is fine by me. In this case, let us return."

He poked at a particular spot in the wall, which revealed a fireplace, and three some of the silvery powder into the hearth.

* * *

A week later, Aren still felt lighter than she had since she'd started living on her own in the streets. The power that she had freed without even putting effort in sort of terrified her, but it was a sort of muted terror, one that she could ignore if she focussed hard enough on something else; and that something else was readily provided by that evening's event, with the Halloween's feast.

She'd never had a proper Halloween. She'd seen children in the streets, back when she was at Spurgeon's, but the superintendent would had never left them out; said it was a waste of time and energy, and that he'd be the one looking after the children, and what they needed was discipline, not distraction, thank you very much.

She'd seen some of the decorations, and it was beyond anything she'd ever seen, but she supposed that was sort of to be expected for the wizarding world. The walls were draped with dark fabrics and little animated creature figurines, with some recreated spiderwebs in a lot of corners. The armours in the hallways made a point of squeaking and creaking when you walked in front of them on your own, Peeves had taken to appearing behind students screaming "BOO" at the top of his lungs, candles tended to flicker off at random (and generally frightening) times, and pumpkin floated above any and all locations that could be considered eve remotely social. You could not go anywhere without finding at least five bats in the room or more, and she'd heard two fourth years discuss the fact that 'Snape might be one of them'. Ridiculous. The professor probably had more interesting things to do than spy on random students posing as a bat. She knew of animagi, of course, but she couldn't see the snarky professor as a bat. Bats were too… cute.

She was late reaching. She'd been back to that book on translation spells, that she had finished the previous Sunday, because she wanted to try and make a list of all the spell in there. If she could, she wanted to compile all the spells she could find by discipline and sub-discipline, but that would probably take some time. She wasn't even sure if it was even possible.

The decorations were the same as everywhere else in the castle, except somehow more… flamboyant. In this room, the bats actually flew down to tickle students' head and steal some of the food. Spiders tended to crawl out of unsuspected places, and a particularly big one started a commotion on the Gryffindors' side when a red-headed boy that was all limbs and large ears started screaming like a banshee — because yes, apparently they really exist — and scrambled away from it, then simply fled the hall.

Aren was about to sit down to eat, when she spotted the Bywater arse pestering Tori. She was not particularly close to the girl, nor to anyone else for that matter, but when she stood up and walked briskly to the exit, and the prat followed her, she just gave up on that idea and followed them from a distance. The fourth year made her uncomfortable in ways she didn't want to linger on, and she was worried for her housemate. She was glad she had, because just outside of the hall he was keeping Tori's hand in a vicious grip, trying to drag her in the direction of an empty corridor.

She saw red, and launched herself at him before she was even done processing what she'd seen.

* * *

Professor Snape looked furious. They were in his office, Aren standing in front of his desk with Duister curled up near her feet, him seated at his desk, some remnants of his last grading session still strewn on its surface. Judging by the bottle of Firewhiskey and the empty glass close to it, it had not been a happy moment. That, or he really loathed halloween. Either way, she now knew for good that he was not posing as a bat.

"Can you explain to me, Miss Dumbledore, what I have just witnessed?" the professor all but hissed at her. "What was this appalling display of yours in front of the Great Hall?"

Aren stayed silent, staring at her own feet.

"Did you know that Mr Bywater will have to stay in the infirmary overnight because you smashed his nose hard enough that it almost reached his brain?"

She immediately fixed her glare on his.

"He deserved that. I'm actually sad I didn't manage to turn him into a brain brochette."

Professor Snape looked somewhere between bored and furious, which was a feat in and off itself. "Excuse me, but it almost sounded like you'd said you were happy that you'd smashed another classmate's nose into his head, in front of witnesses, out of the Slytherin dorm, and after having cursed him into sunday."

"Not happy per se. But it was that or he got on with whatever he'd been doing to Tori And that's just. No."

"Nothing justifies putting your classmate in a comatose state for a day!"

"Yes it does! He's been putting his hands in the first year girls' pants at least since I got here and you've done exactly nothing to stop it!"

Professor Snape's face immediately fell from anger into a look of disgusted surprise, and he brutally blanched.

"He what ?"

"He keeps cornering the other first years and getting them into empty areas, and just… And most of the times I've seen it the girls come back out crying. And when it's a slytherin he doesn't even try to hide it, and they all let him. It doesn't happen every day but I've had to watch it happen… before and when I saw him trying to drag Tori off I just, ah, lost it? I suppose?" Her anger was cooling off a bit, replaced by tiredness and lassitude. "I don't want that to happen to people I know again…"

The professor stayed silent for a bit, staring at her in consideration, his elbows propped up on his desk and intersecting his fingers, hands partially hiding his mouth.

"This is concerning… You understand that while I will make sure this is investigated, of course, but that I still cannot condone assaulting other students?"

"But Sir—" he raised his hand to interrupt her, but put it back down when she visibly flinched at the gesture.

"I will bring this up to the Headmaster immediately, believe me, but I still have to take disciplinary measures. Violence will not be encouraged in Hogwarts, even in the defense of your fellow students. You should have come to me, or another professor, and told us of what you knew. I understand that trusting adult is the last thing you'd do considering your previous living conditions, but here that is what we are here for."

He waited for his message to sink in, and Aren opened her mouth a few times to argue for her case, but in the end never said anything.

"I will take fifty points from Slytherin for serious bodily harm on a fellow student, and you will serve detentions with me every evening for two weeks."

Aren hung her head down. She didn't cry, and she wouldn't — she learned long ago that crying was useless anyway. Still, she was really frustrated, and feeling guilty too, but she didn't want to feel guilty for that Bywater scum. Ster pawed softly at her leg, before jumping on her shoulder. Her little frame did not weigh much on Aren's shoulder, and the warmth was somewhat comforting. She gently scratch the cat's head.

"However, all things considered, there is something to be said for students that naturally look out for their peers. I will award Slytherin twenty-five points on your behalf for this. It stays lower than the deduction of points, to serve as a deterrent. Now, I will escort you back to the dorm and fetch Mr Bywater."

* * *

That never happened, because on their way to the dorm, they were interrupted by Albus' patronus — a great thing of a bird — telling Professor Snape that Sirius Black had managed to sneak into the castle and had tried to force open the Gryffindor entrance.

The students had subsequently been forced back in the Great Hall, and were getting themselves situated in extremely comfortable sleeping bags that she suspected had been tampered with using magic. You could see a distinct division between the houses, as the students tended to gather by affinities. However, when she neared the Slytherin side out of sheer convenience — there was no way anyone but a Slytherin would accept a Slytherin — she realised that a lone blonde Ravenclaw, that she placed in fourth year based on her height, was making herself a spot on the edge of the Slytherin group.

"Hi."

"Hello," the girl replied in an airy voice, "do you mind if I settle here? The other Ravenclaws do not care much for my presence."

"Sure. Why?"

"They just don't like me. I make them uncomfortable." The girl had looked up into her eyes, and her eyes seemed slightly unfocused, as if there were interferences between the two of them that she was trying to look through. "Too weird, I think."

"Meh. You're not the weirdest person I've met and gotten along with. Just… Scoot over a bit. I'm small but I'm not that small." She put her sleeping sleeping bag next to the girl's, and she snuggled in. "I'm Aren, by the way."

"I know." The girl kept just staring at her in her off-centre way, and Aren waited some for the girl to introduce herself for a while before she caught on. "Oh! I'm Luna. Luna Lovegood. I'm a third-year Ravenclaw." Aren just nodded, just as the Headmaster started tapping his hands to call the students to silence and turn off the light.

"Good night, Aren!"

"'Night, Luna."

* * *

You'd have thought being with all the students in the hall would have reminded her of the orphanage, both of them actually, but it just made her feel overcrowded. She'd already been used to watching her back before they had escaped to the streets, and it had escalated brutally when they'd had to sleep in the hangar. She had to be able to wake up at the slightest sound, in case the police fancied a raid. Once in the dorm, she had put sound-dampening spells on her bed to be able to sleep but still be alerted in case of incident; but here she didn't have bedposts to set her spells on, and there were a lot more than three students.

She fidgeted for a long time, and it must have been something around one in the morning when Luna had spoken to her.

"Aren?"

"Yes?"

"Are you having trouble sleeping?"

Aren nodded.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"...Too many people."

"Oh." She let five minutes pass. "My mom used to do a thing for me, when I was smaller. About three. I saw too many things and they whispered and I couldn't sleep. Can I show you?"

"Yes, please."

Luna snuck her hand out of her own sleeping bag, to twist her fingers on Aren's scalp, through her hair strands, and gently scratched the back of her head. After one or two minutes of that, she moved to behind her ear, then the top of her head… and so on, so that her hand was never immobile for long. Aren felt all her muscles unknot, from the nape of her neck, then to the shoulderblades, and her spine, and she slowly relaxed all over. Sometimes, Luna's thumb would ghost over her cheeks, or her browbone, and the front of her neck.

It took less than 20 minutes for Aren to fall asleep, and she had Luna's other hand clutched in hers.

* * *

On the side of the Great Hall, after all professors had reported about their distinct lack of serious findings to Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape was recounting his interview with the Headmaster's ward to him.

"That boy, that, that thing can't be left to roam in the school, Headmaster. Even without actual proof, for now he's 'only' cornering little girls in secluded places, but it will probably degenerate, and very fast."

"I agree, but that does not mean we can just barge in and throw him out without proof. We have to have something tangible enough to justify his expulsion."

Severus thought for a bit.

"Do you think your ward would agree to a Legilimency probe? It will not give us enough to actually expulse him but…"

"But it might be sufficient, ironically enough, to start an official enquiry that would force him, by law, to take Veritaserum. Yes, I will talk with her about it tomorrow morning." He glanced in what he knew was Aren's direction and spotted her, snuggled up to Xenophilius Lovegood's daughter, "I think she's finally fallen asleep."

"You realise, I am sure," Severus added, "that as you are an involved party, you cannot perform the legilimency probe yourself?"

"I know, my boy. I actually was hoping you would do it yourself if she agrees… That way, if Mr Bywater's family tries to interfere, we'll have a secure trace of the memory, as opposed to if we entrusted Aren to the Aurors from the get-go."

"She is tolerable enough that I am willing to do it. Especially considering the situation. Molesters and would-be rapists have no place in Hogwarts."

"We definitely agree on that." He brought out a liquorice lollipop from his robe, but looked at it and just put it back in his pocket, nauseated by what he's just learned. "What do you intend to do about her detentions?"

"Are you trying to weasel her out of it? There already special treatment for the Potter spawn, I'm not going to go soft on her because she happens to be your ward. If anything, considering that she's not as much of a cerebral disaster as the rest of her year-mates, I'd tend to be harder on her."

"I was not going to ask you that. While I understand why she did it, I do not excuse her behaviour. She will have to grow out of it — and fast, because even if I'd like to, I won't be able to protect her forever from the consequences of her own actions. It's a hard lesson to learn, and in this regard I think two weeks of detention is actually quite soft coming from you."

"Oh, believe me, it's nothing but soft. I'm going to use her as workforce to replenish the infirmary's potion stock. As I said, she's not brilliant but she's far above her year's current level, and I'd rather not leave her with idle hands. Devil's work and all that." Severus waved his hand in an uncharacteristically vague gesture.

"Joins the painful and the useful. How devious. But considering she seems to like potions, I'm not quite sure this will be the most efficient of punishments," Albus chuckled.

"... Damn."


	6. Chapter 6

"Miss Dumbledore, I was under the impression that you were a first year, not a second year. And since when have you been a Ravenclaw?"

It was mid-february, and it was the first time Aren had dared sneaked into Professor McGonagall's class. She'd already done it with history of magic. Binns had given no shits, but it wasn't like she listened in that class anyway. She just went to be with Luna. She'd also snuck into Charms, and Professor Flitwick had been delighted to teach her more; Professor Lupin — she really thought he smelled weird — was surprised and a slightly wary of her for a bit then just happily taught away once he'd seen the Slytherin was not there to sow trouble.

The stern transfiguration professor did not seem as inclined to let her do as she pleased. She'd walked to Aren's place (that she had no right to sit at at the moment), and stood with her arms crossed on her chest, lightly tapping her foot on the floor.

"I'm done with first year transfiguration," Aren answered. "I can't make any more progress without feedback."

"What do your mean, done with first year transfiguration?"

"I've tried all the spells in the book. I can do them. I'm not good at assessing the results, though, so I'd need your opinion. Later. I don't want to disturb your class."

"You're already disturbing my class."

"... Fair. But I just want to learn more."

"You could've asked. And shouldn't you be in class?"

"But Professor, I am in class. Yours. And if you mean first year class, then no. I don't have any. I only sneak into other classes during free periods."

"Are you telling me you've done this in other subjects?"

"Yes? In history of magic, defense against the dark arts and charms. Professor Binns didn't notice, Professor Lupin was okay with it, and Professor Flitwick looked like he'd hyperventilate out of sheer happiness."

The professor was now making a very good impression of a gobsmacked fish, except her mouth was closed. She then gathered herself, and turned back to the blackboard.

"Alright, you can stay. But at the first missbehaviour or disturbance, you're out and Slytherin will see its point capital divided by two."

"Fine by me, Professor."

Back at the front of the classroom, Professor McGonagall gave a short, sharp nod before starting the lecture. They were supposed to turn rabbit into slippers, which was much more advanced that their turning earthworms into hair ribbons from earlier in the week. The incantation was lepicalceus , and the wand movement was simple, but it required a surprising large amount of background knowledge. Aren had already read Luna's notes the evening before, and they were extremely detailed, in that sort-of-mystifying way. Other Ravenclaws were definitely underestimating Luna: if she'd wanted to, she could leave them all biting the dust in her tracks.

In the three months and a half that they'd known each other, Aren had only kept liking Luna more. Her eccentricity, her soft honesty — so different from her own flavour of bluntness — and her perpetual caring for others made her the safest person Luna had even known, even more so than Fey, though it pained Aren to admit it. She had stayed in Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays, both because the Headmaster was obliged to stay in school and because she had no care for the holiday itself. Additionally, most of the Slytherin had left to go back home for the Yule ball most pureblood or noble families held at that time of the year. Not that she knew much about that.

That meant that she basically had the whole house all to herself, and she took great satisfaction in bringing Luna inside the large room. They had spent the whole holidays in there, only going out to eat. Luna herself had taken a liking to Luna, in that she was bluntly honest about everything and was not disregard her because of some perceived 'weirdness'. Aren had quickly understood that Luna did see more than most people, those creatures she'd named herself, and that there was truth in what information she got from them, directly or through their behaviour.

Aren had, in Luna's presence, finally experience real, deep sleep, that she'd never known at Spurgeon's, or that other orphanage, or in the streets, nor even in the dorms. She also learned . She'd always loved to learn and spent all the time she could reading, it helped her distance herself from her shitty situation, but now she literally devoured books as soon as they reached her.

She'd read all of Luna's notes. And her books. She'd pestered Luna until she gave in and explained what she didn't understand; Aren hadn't had have to pester very long. She'd already finished reading up on astronomy, herbology, and history of magic. Then she'd started sneaking into her friend's classes whenever she was not in her own, and it was her first attempt at doing that with transfiguration. Minerva McGonagall was known for her no-nonsense policy. She'd yet to try with potions though. She knew she was probably among Professor Snape's favourite students, but she wasn't sure he'd take to this idea too well.

She was following Luna everywhere, and some of the kinder students had switched from calling her 'baby snake' to 'Ravenchick'. She supposed they were in the right, sort of, and the nickname would be annoying if she gave any f*** about what people thought about her. Luna did not care much for the popular opinion either, and having Aren around seemed to make her extremely happy, so she just let them.

* * *

The next morning, she had the surprise to see a red-head sitting with Luna at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast.

"... and then he just ran and no one managed to catch him!"

"Maybe he was scared of the babberblimps? Normally they only go after aquatic creatures, but your brother does seem to be surrounded by a lot of them."

"You know you're the only one able to see them, silly." Aren was surprised both by the soft and fond tone the redhead used for what should have been an insult, and by the fact that the girl was not set against the possibility that Luna could see things other couldn't.

"Doesn't mean Sirius Black cannot sense them." She spotted Aren and a huge smile split her face in two, providing a very strange contrast with her ever-dreamy eyes. "Aren! Come eat with us!"

The little girl came closer to the table, and the redhead threw a suspicious look at her. She obviously had quite a bit of prejudice against Slytherins.

"Hello," she offered her hand for a shake, "I'm Aren."

"Ginny Weasley, Gryffindor." Well, that explained her wariness towards her, but she'd guessed that much from the girl's robe lining. "So you're Luna's friend too?"

"Yes. She's good. And really smart. Completely out there but really smart, and just because I can't see the same way she does, does not mean she's crazy. Plus she's interesting."

"You're probably the first Slytherin to ever speak like that about Luna. Last year, they gave her hell."

"Who?"

"Malfoy, that prat, and his two goons. And Parkinson."

"Parkinson has been giving me shit too since I got here. But she seems to have her priorities in the wrong order. Haven't had to deal with the Malfoy kid myself, not that it's an opportunity I want to take anyway. I've been reading up on Wizarding society and families and his seems like a right pain in some place I won't name."

"The Malfoy hate my family," answered Ginny, "and likes to drag us in the mud. Lucius Malfoy probably has a stick up his unmentionables the size of Big-Ben. He's in Ron's class, and Malfoy hates Harry for not jumping on the pureblood doctrine bandwagon, so he's really nasty to them. And I'm not even talking about Hermione, who is muggleborn and gets looked down upon for simply existing."

"I know none of them, but yeah, Malfoy is an arse and really not all that bright. He could be, if he sorted his priorities, but apparently, lording his family name on everyone takes precedence over the rest right now."

"You don't know them? I mean—" Ginny looked positively gobsmacked, "I'd understand if it was Ron or Hermione, but Harry?"

"Aren was raised out of the Wizarding world," Luna spoke up, "and she had little knowledge about the wizarding society before she started devouring the library. She came to me last week asking about Mouldywart," Ginny snorted her pumpkin juice out her nose, "because she found the actual name ridiculous."

"Moul- cough -Mouldywart." Ginny kept half laughing, half suffocating, "that's the best name I've ever heard for him, ha!" She wiped her eyes, which had started leaking tears. "Sorry. He kind of indirectly gave me a really hard time last year, and hearing that is just… Great. Awesome. Wait until Ron hears it. Mouldywart!"

"So wait. Ron's your brother. Are Harry and Hermione your siblings too?"

"No, not at all. They're Ron's friends. He met Harry on the Hogwarts Express, and they got on brilliant. He told me it was a bit rougher with Hermione at first, because she was 'so stuck up' but I honestly think he just put his foot in his mouth again and she just reacted. Sounds more like him."

"But why should I know them? Or even just that Harry?"

"You've caught up on Mouldy facts, right?" Aren nodded. "Well, Harry's the kid who sent Mouldy to hell. He insists it's because of his mom's protection and that she's the real hero, and I think he's really not happy with the fame, but um. He's like, sort of a really, really important celebrity? Most of our generation grew up hearing about Harry Potter."

"Oh. Well, I don't know him. Must be an okay guy if he's getting harassed by Malfoy — seems to be his main criteria."

Ginny barked out a dry laugh, glancing at Luna, who was back to reading her dad's newspaper.

"You got that right. Probably why he bullied Luna so much last year. Weirdly enough, he seems to be not as focussed on her this year, but then again, he's too busy trying to get Hagrid's hippogriff killed to do much else. He just keeps taunting Ron and his friends."

"Nasty git."

"Yeah. So last night, they were in the dorm and, you know all this Sirius Black mess?" Aren nodded again, and Luna had a slight smile on her face that seemed to say 'I know so much about that' in typical Ravenclaw fashion. "He's after Harry. Except he messed up yesterday, and instead of attacking Harry's bed, he attacked Ron's, and Ron woke up, and he screamed so loud he woke up the whole tower and McGonagall. Everyone freaked out, but by the time we got some form of order back, he had escaped."

"Is your brother alright?"

"Are you sure you're Slytherin?" Ginny was squinting at her. "No proper Slytherin would worry about a Weasley."

"I'm a Slytherin alright," Aren half sneered, half smirked, "but by my house's standard, I'm definitely not proper. Then again, if the standard is set by Parkinson and the likes, I'd rather not be."

"Haha! True. You seem nice. More like a Ravenclaw than a Slytherin."

"I guess that's a compliment, coming from a Gryffindor? Thanks." Aren looked up from their little trio and glanced around. Students were starting to get up in large groups, marking the end of breakfast and the imminent beginning of classes. "I have to go to Transfiguration. I kind of crashed Luna's last class so if I'm not there today and it's not excellent, Professor McGonagall will have my head. See you!" And she trotted off to her class.

Ginny turned to Luna as they were getting up.

"She crashed McGonagall's class ?"

* * *

Aren hadn't told Luna yet, but she was getting worried.

Since mid-march, the thing , that had started getting under control when she'd begun learning magic, was getting restless again. Not in the way a sentient creature would, of course, but it was like a persistent headache that she had to perpetually waddle through. It had made her temper shorter this past week, and Ginny gave her a wide berth the few times she came around to where they sat.

Even the weekly training sessions that she had with Professor Snape, that helped drain out the excess of energy, were not really enough anymore. She'd had to stop herself before reaching real exhaustion during the last two meetings, because Professor Snape had deemed it too risky to continue; she'd pulverised all the dummies, and the professor's shields, and two of the very high windows that were supposed to be enchanted against breaking.

She'd starting tolerating less of Parkinson's piques too; she still didn't care in the least about the mean girl's opinion of her or the impact she had on her reputation in the house, but the constant yapping at her was wearing her nerves down. Combined with the magic pushing at her, she was perpetually on the edge of lashing out at everyone when in the snakes' den.

Some of the Slytherin upperclassmen had relented in their use of degrading nicknames since they had heard she'd had the galls to sneak into one of Professor McGonagall's classes, but the second, third and fourth years were not among those, which meant they still were largely getting on Aren's nerves. It also meant that her perpetual snapping and snarling and her increased irritation had finally brought the attention of one Draco Malfoy on her, which she could've easily done without. Furthermore, he'd started harassing Luna again for the simple fact that they spent most of their free time (and some of Luna's classes) together. The distracted girl did not seem to mind much — in fact, she just blatantly ignored him — but Aren still felt guilty over it.

She slept less, now, either because of the noise or the guilt or the thought or just plain insomnia but mostly just out of fear that the magic would lash out if she didn't concentrate. This gave her random bouts of vertigo, and she was sometimes in a state between awake and asleep during the day, although she took care to stay awake when she went to Professor McGonagall's class, sometimes with Luna's help though little nudges and pokes in her arms. The only solution she'd found so far was to go back to the room she'd stayed in these first two nights at the school and sleep there. She just hoped the potions professor would not catch her there, because then she'd have to go back to sleeping in the dorm. Here, she could just relax for real, and not fear hurting someone as soon as she let go of her right grip on consciousness. But there was still the issue of Duister, who would get trapped within and have to suffer whatever the thing would decide to do next time. She'd left Duister in the dorm.

* * *

That's what got her caught, in the end. Duister had meowed and pawed at the door of the room until one of her roommates, she didn't know which, had gone to shake her and tell her to take care of her cat, except she hadn't been in her bed. The girl, a good Slytherin, had shaken the other two girls and, when they had both confirmed that neither of them knew where Aren was, they had gone to see their head of house.

Snape was pissed of at being woken up in the middle of the night, but that had turned to righteous fury — and a high degree of worry that he would never admit, thank you very much — and had asked questions to the three girls for nearly ten minutes, before recognising that they probably really didn't know where the girl might be. She worse even that he'd ever been at Hogwarts. He'd cultivated relationships with his classmates out of necessity, at least, to ensure his survival. She hadn't even done that. The little blight.

Thankfully, by now he was used enough to her magic, having spent quite some time being on the receiving end of it, so he immediately launched into a series of his most efficient short-distance locating spells. The first four spells failed, draining him more than a bit, and he thought he might have to consider that she'd fled the school entirely when the fifth one gave him a reading near his own quarters. Having reached the most deep dungeons at that point, he ran back up towards the point the spell seemed to be tugging him to. When he arrived, it was all he could do to not swear like a sailor. Right in front of the door to rooms he knew, since he'd assigned them himself. To the girl. For two days.

He didn't knock, and just barged into the room, and was promptly thrown out again. When he looked inside, there was nothing to be seen through the door, just bricks. He knew it hadn't been there an instant before, and when he tried to push at it, his hand went through the stones — an illusion — until it hit a sort of barrier. It was not a physical, not even a magical barrier. It was just an 'absence of passage': there was no obstacle, but he couldn't get his hand any further in. Was Hogwarts protecting the girl ?

F***.

He closed the door again, and went marching to the headmaster's office. He'd probably be able to get the old man to intercede with the castle; that was one of his many roles after all.

* * *

Two hours later, breakfast was about to start and they were no closer to getting in the rooms. At that point, Severus was ready to consider that she might be dead, or in danger, but then the 'wall' flickered and out came a cleaned, ready-for-class Aren and he just exploded .

"Miss Dumbledore, can I ask you what you were doing out of your dorm, after curfew, in a locked room that NO TEACHER COULD ENTER? "

"What? Locked?" The little girl turned to the door, "it wasn't? I just went in, you told me yourself that it couldn't be locked!"

"That's what it was supposed to do, but almost three hours ago your roommates came to tell me that you were not in your bed nor any other in-house place they could think off, and we spent the rest of the time, with the headmaster, trying to force entry because somehow the castle decided it had to shield you from… something."

The girl gaped, then looked in awe to the arch of the door. Then she lifted her hand to rest it on the stones and murmured a small "Thank you" to… the wall? With a huge grin splitting her face. It was rare enough on her — they'd actually never seen her smile like that, it seemed she only knew how to smirk — that both Albus and Severus just stared, until she turned back to them.

"She wasn't keeping you out , she was keeping me in . Or rather, the thing."

"The thing?" Albus asked.

"The magic. Well, I think it's my magic."

Albus spoke up for the first time since the door had opened. "Aren, dear, why did you not tell me?" Then, turning to Severus, "my boy, could we all adjourn to your office, as it is literally next door?"

"If you want, Headmaster." The girl closed the door, and they moved to Severus' office, Severus taking a seat of his own, and the girl sitting next to her guardian. Albus conjured some tea from the kitchens for them. "The magic that I couldn't control at the beginning of the year? It's… it's still better than it was then but-" she frowned, "but it's not as efficient as it was before. I used to feel safe about it after the workouts with Professor Snape, for like, a week, even more. But now if it stays completely safe for three days it's a miracle, and that's when I'm awake."

"Is that why you left the dorms? Because you were afraid you might lose control during the night?"

"Yes… I actually did, a couple times. But this room is safe, and Hogwarts, she repairs it after the night. That way I can sleep, and I'm not worried about accidentally harming the other girls."

"That is very honorable of you, of course," Severus snorted at Albus' words. Slytherins, honorable… "But why did you not simply come to us? It's not like you were the one at fault, actually you're probably more a victim than anything else here."

The little devil just stuck her chin out, trying to make herself look taller, probably. It didn't work — although she had grown up quite a bit since she'd started being fed regularly, she was still rather small for her age, but at least now people usually placed her at her actual age, not three years younger. It could be half attributed to her exceptional intellectual maturity, that startled people into giving her a year or two above the age they'd naturally give her. Severus spoke up.

"She doesn't like asking for help. She's not used to having positive, safe adult figures in her life so she just keeps things to herself."

Albus looked sad for a second, then chuckled softly. "That reminds me of someone."

Twinkly bastard.

* * *

Of course it had to fail at some point. She'd been allowed to sleep in her rooms again, and Luna could keep Ster for the time being. She still went to class normally, and she still snuck into the Ravenclaw's classes —never potions — but she had to have a magical workout with Professor Snape twice a week now, and it was barely keeping her under control.

It all came to a head one day when she'd been about to go into one of those workout session.

She'd just left a charms class, one of her own, where Professor Flitwick spent more time quizzing her on theory than on practice, which meant that she had more energy left than usual. Luna had been waiting in front of the door for the rest of her class to get out, and was going to go with her find the potions professor. She'd gotten into the habit to stick around during Aren's time with the professor, reading books while Aren had as many things as she could in the room explode. Snape tolerated her, and he thought the Ravenclaw's presence pushed Aren to be more careful and focussed during their exercises. And the weird girl did seem to be picking up some things merely by being there, which was a definite plus so far but could turn into a disaster later on.

It was a surprise for Aren to see Draco Malfoy in front of that same classroom; the class were supposedly finished for the day, and unless he had been given a detention by Professor Flitwick — unlikely — then he'd just been there looking for someone to bully. Apparently, that meant Luna.

"Maybe he's gone mad because of your mum's death? Maybe he's the one who killed her. Or maybe he was jealous because she was cheating on him with one of your weird animals, and that's why you're batshit insane."

Luna was crying in silence, her eyes drawn to the ground, soft tears gliding on her cheeks. She didn't even sob, she just cried in silence. Her nose was running.

"Leave her alone, you little shit! Even if we ignore the fact that you're completely off the mark, you're not exactly one to talk considering your parents are cousins if not secretly siblings, and your father most probably got fucked on a regular basis by Mouldywart."

"Leave my father out of this, you street mongrel! He's everything you can never hope to be; and Loony here is certainly the proof that wizards should only breed with wizards!"

A soft whimper escaped Luna, and Aren saw red, and suddenly the thing was angry . It grabbed Malfoy by the neck and lifted him until he was floating in mid-air, as if he'd been strung up with a noose around his neck. His legs were kicking the air and he was scratching at his neck trying to get whatever it was holding him to let go .

She could somehow still vaguely register the noises and people around her, but only from a very remote place like she heard them all from underwater, until she recognised Luna's eyes, wide and full of tears but this time, it was her fault. The thing immediately let go of Malfoy, instead turning back on her, and suddenly she could feel the stone all around her and it cracked like a giant fist had slammed into the walls and floor, avoiding her thanks to some miracle.

She thought she heard Luna yell at someone else to run and get Professor Snape from the training room, where he would probably already be. Then she was back to looking her in the eyes, and trying to help her breathe in a way similar enough to the way Albus had calmed her these two first times, but Aren could not even hear her. The thing kept enlarging the cracks around her, and she couldn't hear anything anymore, and someone please stop this !

And then, calm. A tall figure, and black robes that smell a bit of stale air and smoke and something spicy that she could not recognise, and it was so warm. Her head was pressed against a solid surface with a fast but regular beat to it. She could not hear it but she could feel it, that beat, and she closed her eyes because if she could reduce her whole world to that feeling of a beat against her cheek, then maybe the world would be alright.

And then she burst into tears, as the tall figure took her away from the mass of gaping students, looking at them but not moving from their spot, aside from one Draco Malfoy who was still trying to regain some semblance of breathing pattern.

* * *

Even when she was back to a half-believable state of control, she kept snuggling into his robes and burrowing her face against her chest like she'd never let go and could live the remainder of her life as a marsupial. Quite against his will — or so he told himself — Severus ended up supporting the child, if only to be able to move about, and his hand found itself mechanically stroking the back of the child. He could still hear a hiccup from time to time, but the frequency had significantly gone down since she had lost control of her magic.

He called Dumbledore through the floo, not used enough to crying children to handle one with sheer talent and predisposition, then sat back on his couch, Aren still clinging to him and looking more and more drowsy. The Headmaster stepped through the hearth, then sat himself next to Severus and a lap-full of little girl.

"You will be reassured by the fact that young mister Malfoy is in the infirmary and no marks should be left by morning, save for the psychological ones. He is currently sleeping. Pompom seemed to think a professor had strangled the child, considering the force required to do that. I've also heard quite a few muggleborns speaking about a 'force choke', but beyond that everything is back to normal. Well, and little Aren here."

He tried to gently place his hand on her shoulder, but even through Severus' robes he could hear a choked yelp, or a whimper, and she shrunk some more to make herself as small as she could.

"The only thing I know for sure and that no other child has been this powerful in decades, and that at this point it's eating her from the inside. Madam Pomfrey does keep the samples of blood she takes from the children, doesn't she?"

"She does, yes. Do you have something in mind?"

"An old potion used for overly powerful children from a handful of centuries back. It supposedly dampened their magic by redirecting it to their closest living relative. I'm half convinced that it is all the affabulations of a troubled mind, but at this point it is the only option I can think of. The blood would serve two purposes: first, as an ingredient to the potion, and second as a test subject. I can't very well ask her to drink it first and see about the effect later."

"And in the meantime?"

Severus took some time to think.

"I don't think she could go back to class. She's proved today that she is an actual hazard if she get provoked, even if sue does not mean to harm people. She's ahead enough of her class, from what Minerva told me, that it won't be a handicap for her end-of-year exams."

"Do you mean to leave her in that room all day, all the time?" Albus had some difficulty considering that option. She was a studious child, and very calm, but if she couldn't go anywhere close to other children, that would mean total autarky — not even getting down to the Great Hall for a meal with her peers.

"I was actually going to ask you to keep her in your quarters, Albus. She is , after all, your charge."

"I would definitely agree, you know it, but I will be absent most of the time for the next three or four weeks because the minister has seen fit to increase the number of dementors and I cannot, in good conscience, let him do so." He suddenly chuckled, "besides, it seems her choice has been made. She looks quite comfortable where she is."

It took some time for Severus to understand what this meant.

"You want me to keep her in my quarter? I'm already teaching for you, spying on a regular basis, playing bodyguard for the potter boy-hero, and now you want me to be your ward's nanny?"

"No, no, I wouldn't put it in those terms. But it would be most practical for testing and monitoring if she was nearby while you developed the potion. Besides, the room she uses is right next to your office, to which you can access instantly, so that will be good enough."

He'd done it again. Twinkly bastard!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** The symbols between brackets, like [a], are footnotes, and explained at the end :)

* * *

Little notice: if you've read this far, you probably noticed a terrible (really terrible) amount of typos. I had to write the first six chapters without my glasses because I broke them, which means I could write but not read what I'd written. I probably won't be writing anything more in the next week, because I'll be focussing on fixing up all that!

While the headmaster was going to the infirmary to request a sample of Aren's blood for Severus' experiments, the later picked up the little girl and walked to his potions laboratory, where more of his tomes about obscure and/or dangerous potions were stored. Realising Aren — when had she become Aren and not Miss Dumbledore? — had fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion, he cast a cushioning charm on one of the benches of the lab, far enough that she would be safe from projections if he brewed but close enough that he could easily monitor her, and lay her down there.

He turned to the book he thought should contain the appropriate base for this dampening potion, and old family tome inherited from his mother containing potions used and created by the prince family. He easily found, after an hour of going through the thick book, the potion he sort of remembered, but he immediately saw that it would not be a viable solution. Invisible Shackles was to be drunken for it to take effect, and was meant to bind forever a recalcitrant family member, by redirecting most of their magic to the closest family member. That meant once one had drunk it, there was no going back.

That also meant he'd have to develop a temporary potion, if possible topical because most of the replacement ingredient would not have the time to be tested for toxicity in a mix. He wrote down the recipe:

 _Fill 5/7 of a cauldron with demineralised water, add 3 ½ drops of doxy salive. Stir thrice counter-clockwise, then let rest at 78°C for 10 minutes exactly._

 _Meanwhile, crush dry broom leaves, and bath in bulrush sap, to produce a brown paste._

 _Cover heliotrope petals in this paste using a horse-hair paintbrush. It is advised to prepare a dozen of them to avoid difficulties later on. Apply the same treatment to the lobelia stalks._

 _Let rest until the 10 minutes of waiting have passed._

 _Once the timing is reached, add 3 of the coated petals and 1 coated stalk to the potion, and stir until the petals are completely uncoated, then remove those using tweezers. No skin should come in contact with the potion at this point._

 _The paste will dissolve around the stalk, and the potion turns an azure, clear blue. When the lobelia stalk turns deep red, remove it from the cauldron, with tweezers as well._

 _Reduce the fire intensity until the brew reaches a temperature of 57°C._

 _Add 22 drops of wormwood essence. Let rest for 2 hours and 15 minutes._

 _Add 9 large poppy seeds._

 _Bottle, and keep at a temperature between 10 and 30°C (1,2)._

He went to the associated footnotes:

 _(1): Two drops of blood, one from the drinker and one for the intended recipient, will remove the random component of the potion._

 _(2): This here potion is not to be used for blue bloods or non humans as it would prove deadly for both persons involved._

Well, it was good that he was going to modify the mixture in the first place, because he was pretty much convinced at this point that she was at least partly non-human. Elementals were known for giving birth to extremely powerful children when mating with a human.

Additionally, when he looked into the ingredient list, he was surprised to see that instead of actually helping the child control their magic with sadly unavoidable and permanent side-effects, the potion was specifically designed to put the child into a state of magical slavery [a], acting as a power resource for the living relative until one of them died, usually the child for having had their magic siphoned out.

He supposed he could replace the broom with bat liver, for calm and control, and lobelia with centaury to combat the poison of the less replaceable poisonous herbs. Poppy and wormwood, for example, would not be replaceable. He supposed he could add ground almond to give it a pasty, soothing texture. The potion would have to remain on the skin for a while, and giving the child a rash would be pointless. He'd have to start with brewing a stabilising base, because there was no way bat liver and wormwood would coexist in a potion without that to balance them.

He moved to his workbench, a few idea of formulas to start with, and took out his favourite two cauldron. He'd probably have to do parallel brewing until he knew which formula was the most likely to succeed. A whimper resounded from the bench where he had placed Aren, and he went to her to check that she was still asleep. The child was restless, her eyebrows were furrowed, and he could feel the magic rolling off her in waves.

He hurried back to his workstation; he had work to do.

* * *

Several hours laters, he'd lost the count, he vanished his seventh attempt with a snarl. One of the empty potion vials exploded, scaring the daylights out of him, and he remembered he had an unconscious girl in his lab, who was still somewhat aware of her surroundings through her feverish state, and that said magic tended to react badly to aggression. Better to watch his temper, at least until the girl had her magic under control.

He noticed that on the workbench the girl was sleeping next to, there was a small vial of a blackish red substance. Apparently, Albus had managed to secure a sample of the girl's blood, which would help in his work. He made to sample a few drops of the fluid when he stopped his hand. The blood was obviously coated in a strong glamour, but not any sort he recognised, which meant it was either a lesser known spell or not a spell at all but an instinctive camouflage. Either way, only water elementals could have offspring with humans that would have a blood distinctly different from that of a normal human — it looked like pink water, as if the blood had been diluted; this led credence to his previous hypothesis, but he still had to check to be sure.

An hour and a half later, he was no closer to breaking the glamour. This meant that the girl had probably very unconsciously and very powerfully placed it on the vial even as it was taken from her arm. He had almost no chance of breaking it without her assent considering her power levels and the fact that it was not a spell, properly speaking, but raw magic. This could not be right however, because while part water elementals were extremely strong, they tended to rubbish at disguising charms, unlike part air elementals. They largely favoured healing charms and spells.

He placed the vial back on the table, and went to softly shake Aren to wake her up. It worked, but at the cost of a tiny fist in his eye, and he recoiled sharply while swearing like the day his mom had had to pull out one of his teeth, the muggle way. The hit had been painful but not hard enough to do any real damage, and when the sting of it died down, he looked up and saw that Aren was wide awake, curled up in a ball with her legs folded against her, her arms encircling her knees and her eyes following his every moves.

"'m sorry," she whispered, and she was obviously waiting for a form of retribution for that.

"In normal circumstances, hitting a professor would have gotten you at worst expelled, at best with detention until the end of next year. However, as I am the one who frightened you in a position of perceived weakness, it was not your fault and you will not be punished." He tried to keep his voice as soft and unthreatening as possible — the first was easy, the second one not so much — while he sat next to her. "Now, Ar— Miss Dumbledore, I will need your help for an instant. You see," he grabbed the vial again, "I have managed to obtain a vial of your blood from the infirmary, which I will test my first attempts at potions on to check for compatibility. The potion I am working on should have a soothing effect on your magic, when I complete it, making your life in Hogwarts that much more easy to manage."

Aren nodded, but it was obvious on her face that she was not following his reasoning.

"I am asking for your help because, while this looks like normal blood, there appears to be very strong, and unstructured glamours on it that keep me from seeing its true nature. Do you remember putting glamours on your blood during the customary sampling Madam Pomfrey did for everyone at the beginning of the year?"

"Not at all, no. I was mostly panicking about the fact that maybe that test would prove I'd be a freak after all, but I didn't think about disguising my blood… and I thought glamour spell only lasted a few weeks at most? We're in April."

"That is true, which leads me to think that you are the one who put the spell on it: this is not a spell, but a constant flow of magic from you to this liquid, maintaining a mirage for the perception of the person seeing it, rather than an actual glamour. And only you, or the headmaster, deputy-headmistress and myself, would have the magical reserves to maintain this complex bit of magic this long."

"So you're saying I was subconsciously hiding my own blood because I'm a freak after all?" She looked on the verge of panicking again.

"No. For all I know, you could have thought there was a risk of that and disguised your very normal blood with… the exact same image of your very normal blood. It is professional consciousness that makes me ask you to remove this illusion; the risk that I would accidentally poison you because of some latent creature blood is very low, but it exists, and I cannot ignore it." He kept his voice at that same low pitch, and was surprised when Aren grabbed at his robe's sleeve like she needed the grounding, and realised she probably did. Any emotional outburst right now might put her in danger, and him with her, and probably a good quarter of the castle on top of them.

"Okay… Okay." She took a deep, slow breath. "How do I remove the illusion?"

"If my theory is right, you should have a rather large thread of magic linking you to this vial. I could… Yes." He got up, held the vial away from his body, and slowly circled the room. "Do you feel any change in your magic when I move around like this? It should be significant."

"I… think I feel it. It's like a tug in my diaphragm, but it's not that big at all? Feels more like a single thread coming loose from a sweater."

"That… means you have even more latent magic than I expected. I would test your magical core now, but I'm afraid of what this could do to you in your current state…" he stopped his musing when he realised he'd said that out loud and that the child was starting to hyperventilate again. "Aren, please, no. Don't panic. As I said, I won't do it. Breathe slowly. There. In… out."

She caught on quickly, as he had reacted as soon as he saw her panicking, and soon she was still shaking but her breathing was back under control.

"I will not test anything on you until I'm certain I have a formula that is safe for you."

She nodded, and kept clinging to his teaching robes.

"The only thing I ask of you tonight, is to follow that thread of magic you found and to cut it off. Can you do that?"

She tried, but immediately whimpered again as one of the jar containing ingredients exploded. Damn, that was his last jar of powdered moonstone.

"No, that obviously didn't work. I didn't consider the backlash of getting that magic back into you, especially with how much you already have. How about…" he found an empty vial, and using the same spell on his wrist that Poppy used every year on the students to get a sample of their blood without breaking the skin, he filled it with his own blood. "How about you transfer the spell to this vial instead? This is mine, and should not react adversely. This way, the magic will keep doing what it was doing, and you'll still free your sample for analysis."

She nodded, and got to work.

* * *

It took her half an hour to get it down. Professor Snape had cast a tempus while she was trying to do what he'd said, and at that point it had been roughly a quarter to five. This explained the dark circles under the professor's eyes, although nothing in his behaviour indicated that he was tired or less aware than usual. If anything, he seemed to be more on his guard because of what he perceived as a weakness, and she totally agreed with him on that point.

She finally felt a shift and suddenly, the magic snapped into place from one vial to the other. She slumped back, almost falling off the bench, and the professor lurched forward, barely managing to catch her on time. She felt her cheeks flaming in shame at the very same weakness Professor Snape seemed so adept to avoid, but could not do much more that hide her face in his robes for an instant. This also ashamed her — she was acutely aware of the fact that she was younger than the other students, and did not want to deserve the 'baby snake' moniker than she already did.

That was why she was so surprised when instead of sitting her down on the bench again, she felt the professor hold her back so that she could keep up her ridiculous clinging while he moved. He grabbed the now illusion-less vial and watched it as closely as he could.

At first sight, in the darkness of the room, it looked barely different. A little purple, perhaps, but no thinner. Definitely not a part water elemental then.

He summoned a flame, charmed white to avoid metamerism [b] as much as possible. He charmed the other lights in the room the same way, and upped their intensity, and the visibility got significantly better — although the light was also much more aggressive to the eyes, unlike the warm yellow lights he usually preferred. He then took up the vial up again, and placed it near the flame, only to immediately drop it like the vial itself had burned him. The glass was charmed against breaking, so it only produced a loud thunk against the stone of the floor when it rolled of the table. It made Aren look up askance, and she spotted his ashen face, and after all the tiring events and trying to keep her magic in and self-preservation just had her yowling in terror and fighting her way out of the professor's grip — which was still rather loose — to try and find a corner to hide in.

She'd seen that look before, when the superintendent had spotted her doing some weird shit. She hadn't done magic then, not for real, and never really strong, but she saw how it could have still looked creepy to an adult such as him. She tended to know things she wasn't supposed to, for example. She'd once even tried to blackmail the man with it too, how he embezzled the orphanage's funds, to get him to stop what he'd been doing to most of the boys and some of the girls.

She found lost things easily, even in places that had already been checked.

She'd also had a strange closeness to animals, wild or not, but she'd always attributed that to the fact that she was crap at communicating with humans anyway. She had had long conversations with the birds nesting right above the window, under that section of the roof that held the gutter. They'd never answered, of course, but at the time they had seemed so much better friends at individuals of her own species.

Either way, when she did one of those weird things, the superintendent blanched immediately and then hit her senseless. Once, the one time she had tried to blackmail him, he even did… that, to her. That had only happened once, of course, but that was when she'd decided to stop talking completely, until she had met Fey.

The face of Professor Snape at that very moment looked the same, although the anger was strangely missing. Still, she had been 'trained', sort of, into expecting vicious hits in this sort of situation. The best solution to avoid that was to find a nook or cranny to squeeze herself in; if she was barely small enough to fit in, no adult would be able to follow.

She found just that… under one of the shelves holding potion ingredients. She slammed herself to the ground and promptly rolled under the shelf, sticking herself to the wall. She then tried to hold her breath in as much as she could, a sort of instinctive plea, 'please let him forget about me, I'm not here, he can't hear me or see me'. That didn't work, of course, and the professor shook himself then stood up, and then she couldn't feel the reassuring weight of the shelf above her.

Fuck, she'd forgotten about magic in her panic. She tried to scramble away before he caught her—

"Please, Aren, I did not mean to startle you. I was just surprised at what I saw. I… I will not harm you, never. I might say things in anger, and I know I can be scary, but I do not. Hit. My students." She froze mid-lurch to another spot, before jumping to the next spot she could find. She snuggled under that other shelf, and the professor just sighted, lowering the first shelf. "If this will make you more comfortable, I will not levitate that shelf until you have calmed down."

He turned away from the shelf, and walked back to the workstation, picking up the blood vial as he went. He sat down again, and from her spot she could hear the light tink of glass on the table, hinting at his doing more testing but she could not see him from her spot.

She could not determine the passage of time, but she knew it was a long time before she felt safe and confident enough to crawl back out of her hiding spot. She slowly got up, then walked to the professor, and shuffled her feet before, for the second time that night, she apologised.

"Sorry…"

The professor stopped stirring, and put a stasis spell on his work. He'd apparently started testing a first formula with her blood, and as far as she knew (not much, Potion was the only class she had not worked on the second year material), there was no real adverse reaction yet.

"I believe I should be the one to apologise, this time. I obviously did not consider your background in sufficient detail, or I would have been able to anticipate that reaction." He put his glass rod on the resting spot made for that very use, to avoid potion spillage on the work table. "Do you feel comfortable enough to sit on the bench next to me so we could talk?"

Aren did not feel very sure about her voice yet, so she just nodded her head and sat next to the professor, though way less close than she had earlier.

"I will start by telling you that it is a good thing, indeed, that we removed the glamours. One of the components I had considered in one of my later attempts — belladonna — would have most likely killed you at the first drop of the potion hitting your skin."

"Am I a real freak then? I'm not a witch after all. Just a weird thing that hurts people. A mistake. No wonder my parents left me there, they probably were worried for their lives. Maybe I—"

"Miss Dumbledore, will you please cease this drivel?" The professor interrupted her. "Aren, listen, you are not a monster or a freak or anything like that. Will you let me explain?" After a nod, he continued. "You're familiar with the concept of genetics, right?" Another nod. "And with what royalty are called in the muggle world?"

"Blue bloods? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Not everything, but it will help introduce the concept. And with the common wizarding history fact?" Yet another nod.

"You see, muggles borrowed that word from us, and from what they had kept in the folklore: that blue bloods were individuals that were strong, leaders, sometimes even blessed by the gods to lead their people.

'The fact is, blue bloods are very much real. It is a trait inherited from the two parents, only if they both carry the blue blood gene. It is a recessive gene, which means it will only 'activate' if the child inherits the gene from both parents. If the child gets it from only one, it'll be what we call a 'latent bearer' of the gene. I, for one, am a latent bearer, as are Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger, Mr Potter, Miss Lovegood or even your guardian, the Headmaster, to name the ones you are most familiar with. Though in his case, he is often thought to be an actual blue blood due to his blue eyes and white hair. Most people forget he was a redhead when he was younger."

"Wait wait wait, so, blue bloods can't be redheads?"

"They always have white hair, actually." She grabbed her white hair, her eyes widening in comprehension. "I see you guessed it. Just, please let me finish."

"Alright," and Aren voluntarily ignored the way her voice cracked at the end.

"So, considering the history of our people, you know that all muggles are related to us, generations away? Therefore, they can be latent bearers too. It is extremely rare, but sometimes a blue blood is born from two muggle parents. They are usually mistaken as albinos, which they actually are but only as a 'byproduct' of their nature."

"The muggles chose to borrow the name of 'blue blood' for their royalty because, at the time, blue bloods were slightly more common than they are now, although still very rare. They usually ended up in positions of power due to their extremely large magical core, and although it is not the case for all of them, they have a higher ratio of what muggles call 'gifted children'. Sadly, these are also the ones that tend to die before they reach adulthood, because they are the one whose power tend to lash out most on themselves."

"Is that… Is that me? Does this mean that I'm going to die soon? You lied! I'm a freak after all!? "

The professor softly, but very firmly grabbed her face to make her face him.

"You. Are. Not. A freak. What I'm telling you is that you have a gift, and it will make your education more difficult than the average, but I will not let you die. I am, at this very moment, working to develop a potion that will help you contain your power. It will also redirect your excess magic to your closest living relative. By magic's rule, that would be your father, and if he's not alive, your mother, then any direct ancestors in that same order, and if none are alive, your cousins. I just wished I knew who was your family so that we could warn them, but in the meantime, the very transfer of magic will make it weaker; and it will be transferred only to living adults, which means they will be able to control it. Do you understand me?"

"I'm… not gonna die?" He let go of her head.

"I will do everything to see to that. I protect the students under my responsibility, Aren, especially Slytherin ones because they are that much more likely to have no one else looking out for them." He took a breath. "But most importantly, you are not a freak. In fact, blue bloods are so rare now that once you reveal to others what you are, you are very likely to be on the receiving end of a lot of worshipping." He laughed at her scrunched up face. "Yes, quite the uncomfortable perspective, but a better one than you thought, I hope. Fame is, in my opinion, quite overrated. Calm and collection, in a familiar place with books, is a much more enticing perspective."

"Yes. Yes, I think so." She then let out a huge yawn, and proceeded to curl up on the (very much not cushion-spelled) bench next to the professor, who just lifted an eyebrow and shook his head, before taking her in his arms and putting her on the other, actually spelled bench. He took off his teaching robes — he had a feeling he wouldn't teach the next day, as it was supposed to start in less than an hour now and he had not slept yet — and covered the child with it. It sent a patronus to the Headmaster, before going back to his brewing. He intended to have a brew ready by the end of the week.

* * *

Aren woke up very comfortable. She was in a very silent place, save for the occasional sound of things falling into water. She vaguely remembered having fallen asleep in the potion lab of Professor Snape, and she was pretty sure there was no bed in there. She opened her eyes, and saw that she was indeed still there. The professor was still brewing — how long had he been at it? — and when she looked down at herself, she saw that she was on a bench, not on a soft bed like she thought, and she was wrapped in a soft, dark fabric that smelt like spices and herbs and a bit of licorice. It was surprisingly warm, and when she took it off herself, she understood why.

She'd slept bundled in the professor's robes.

She checked quickly to see if she had drooled anywhere during her sleep, but it did not seem so. She cautiously got up, trying not to disturb the professor, but apparently that was moot because he finished his brew and put his glass stirring rod down next to… half a dozen others of the same kind. He turned to her with a crooked brow, and she spoke up.

"What time is it?"

"Twenty past eleven," he answered after a quick tempus, "you slept for roughly for five hours."

"Oh." She yawned. "Did you spend all that time brewing?"

"Yes. As I said, I will do all I can to prevent your nature from negatively affecting you."

"But… but sleep! You can't brew without sleep! You'll ruin your health, and you'll put yourself at risk, and potion mistakes, and—"

"I assure you that I am quite aware of my limits, Miss Dumbledore." The little girl felt a pang in her chest. She was back to being Miss Dumbledore, nevermind that she'd finally felt safe enough to have her first real sleep in… ever.

"Sorry for worrying, Sir." She put the robe down on the bench, "I'll be going now."

She just walked out of the lab, and once she was sure she would not be seen by the professor, she started running to the Ravenclaw tower to find Luna. She felt like crying, without any real reason — being calmed out of a panic attack and sleeping in the lab using the professor's robes as a blanket to go back to being regarded as a mere student did not hurt, should not hurt, no matter how safe she had felt there.

She didn't make it to the Ravenclaw tower, because she slammed into a moving mass, running in the opposite direction.

"Ouch," she yelped as she fell to the ground.

"Sorry! Sorry, I have to get professor Dumbledore quickly and he's not in his office, and I have to hurry—" A small-ish, black-haired Gryffindor boy babbled at her. She interrupted him.

"He's in the Owlery usually at this time of the day. Great view over the grounds."

She easily led the boy to said location, just in time as Albus was leaving the Owlery.

"Albus!" The boy visibly started at the use of his first name. "Albus, this boy said he had to find you urgently." The boy picked up on her explanation.

"Malfoy went and annoyed a creature again in Care with Hagrid and I already found Madam Pomfrey and sent her ahead but Hagrid said he'd need your help as of twenty minutes ago!"

"Sure, my boy. I'll go there. You're excuse from the end of that class, as will be the rest of your class."

"Thank you, Sir!" As Albus was walking away at a brisk pace, he turned to Aren. "Thanks a lot. Malfoy really pulled a nasty move this time and I don't want Hagrid getting in trouble because of the prat. By the way, why are you calling the Headmaster Albus?"

"He's my guardian. I'm Aren Dumbledore, but most people call me just Aren, or baby snake or ravenchick if they're not as nice."

"That's…" he shook his head. "I'm Harry Potter," he said with a small smile and an outstretched hand.

"Oh! You're Ginny's friend then!" She spontaneously exclaimed, and he answered by widening his eyes (which were rather brutally green), blinking a couple times, then bursting into laughter.

* * *

 **A/N:** [a] Ingredient symbolism for the invisible shackles potion:

Broom (humility) - subservience  
Bulrushes (docility) - remove poisons from water, soothing  
Heliotrope (devotion) - hepatotoxic (liver)  
Lobelia (malevolence) - toxic (lobeline) - cardiac disease in the long run  
Poppy (oblivion, eternal sleep) - induces lethargy, lowers magic  
Wormwood (absence) - toxic (absynthe)

[b] Metamerism: when two very similar colours in one light (like midday light) look markedly different in another light (artificial light inside a house, that tends to be yellow). This is a phenomenon that people working with colour-related materials, such as paint manufacturers, have to watch out for. (I'm sorry, I'm a chemist and my specialty is paint. I'll try to keep the inner nerd under control.)


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** The symbols between brackets, like [a], are footnotes, and explained at the end :)

* * *

Severus receded behind the corner he had just passed, seeing the little Slytherin shaking the Potter spawn's hand. Well, that was some worry he'd wasted, he supposed. Ungrateful chit. When she'd exited his laboratory, he'd though she sounded weirdly flat and tone less. He'd hesitated for all of a moment, before taking off after her, and easily catching up to her. His experience as a spy came in handy, because he could easily shadow her without worrying over being heard. He'd been surprised when the child had started running in the direction that would lead her farther away from her common room, but had followed nonetheless, until she'd literally smashed herself into the disgusting boy. He'd not been close enough to hear what they said, but he saw Potter burst out laughing, and was ready to give him a verbal whipping, but Aren only tipped her head to the side, so he guessed nothing insulting had been said — her fist would already be embedded in his face otherwise.

He walked back to his laboratory, glaring at anyone who crossed his path, and satisfying his sour mood's demands by docking about thirty points total from several students that were throwing what looked like small beads of paint at each other, turning the targets to weird colours.

Once in his laboratory, he decided that since the girl was gone and it was early in the afternoon, he might as well get some rest. He'd be making no progress in the state he was in, the annoyance and tiredness making him prone to lapses in judgement. He put the simmering cauldron under a stasis spell, and relocated to quarters to finally get the sleep this blasted child had robbed him of.

* * *

Two hours later, or so he thought, he discovered that hoping for a long stretch of uninterrupted sleep was just delusional, as he was woken up by persistent knocking at the door to his quarters. He sighed, or rather grumbled, before getting off his bed and slipping a set of simple robes over the day clothes he'd not bothered taking off before laying atop his covers; if it was the Malfoy prat again, his father would hear about it. That would be some nice retribution for the boy's bragging about his father's political reach.

"Severus, my boy, I just met Aren again when coming back from the Care of Magical Creatures class. She was under the impression that she was to go back to her common room, so I guessed you hadn't told her about her temporary living arrangements?"

"I didn't get the time. I was also under the impression that Miss Dumbledore despised the mere idea of being in my presence, seeing as she ran away as soon as she woke up."

The girl opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it before actually speaking and just closed it again.

"Yes, well, considering the current situation, none of us has any other option, right? I explained everything to her, or at least as much as I knew. I'll be leaving her in your care, now." He looked at the girl, "good evening, Aren," then back to the tired professor, "Severus," before turning and walking back to his tower, a slight bounce to his steps.

Snape turned to the little girl. "Oh, come in, you blasted girl." She winced. He had to get his temper back under control — and sleep seemed a good way to do that. He heard a light mumble, and it took him longer than he'd like to admit to understand that she was talking to him.

"Sorry, about earlier." She did have quite the tendency to apologise a lot, often enough about things that weren't her fault. But this time it was, right?

"About rudely walking out of my laboratory without so much as a by-your-leave or a greeting when I'd just greeted you?"

"... Yes. Sorry. Just… didn't want to be in the way."

"Sorry won't always cut it, Miss Dumbledore," he was surprised to see her wince, "especially when there is no real— wait, what do you mean, in the way?"

"You sounded like I was in the way. It's dangerous."

"To be in the way? And how did I ' sound like you were in the way '?" At this point, he probably looked like a house-elf with how wide his eyes were.

"Yes. To both. You… when you were alright with talking to me, you called me Aren. But this afternoon you were back to Miss Dumbledore. That means trouble."

"Wha— No?!" He was spluttering . Minerva would have a field day if she heard. "You ran away because I called you by your name ?" The girl made no sense. All he knew about her was completely incoherent. How could someone ready to punch people five years older than her in the face be afraid of his using her name ?

She did not seem in any way inclined to talk more. Doing a second take, he noticed that her shoulders were slightly hunched, and her hands were fisted, her arms straight against her body. The skin of her knuckles was white. She was actually completely terrified.

Of him.

He closed the door to his chambers, that he'd left open in his surprise, to then get down to a crouching position in front of Aren. His face was barely level hers, and this was a further reminder of the fact that she was small, and younger than most — even if her eloquence was astounding for her age —, and most likely scared out of her wits. Which explained why she hadn't snarked back much since she'd gotten in the room.

"Miss Dumble— Aren , I told you this morning: I might say mean things, most likely in anger," he let out a small breath, the closest he'd let himself to laughing. "I'm not best known for my warm disposition and smooth temper, now, am I?" A smirk, from him, and a light nod from her. "I will never harm a student in my care. I give nasty detention, that you will definitely hate if you ever find yourself in them, I give lines, I take points but I do not hit students. Under any condition."

"But—"

He waited patiently until she actually managed to say what she meant to. At this point, he had no other way to figure out what was frightening her — and what the issue was in the first place.

"But, Mr. Matthews? He…"

Ah. The child stopped talking again, but this gave me more insight that he'd have thought to have from so little. The superintendent of Spurgeon's had been a brutally authoritarian man, that he knew for a fact was abusing his charges in every imaginable way. He had taken a trip in Marin Abbercrombie's head himself, and seen first hand, or rather second hand but remembering it as if he'd been there, what the man did to the children. He knew that he had also used subtle clues that he knew the children caught, to frighten them further. One of those ways was to change the inflexion of his voice when saying their name.

If Aren had grown up in this sort of environment, as he very well knew she had, then it wasn't surprising that she had reacted to such things as his surprise, which had resulted in her hiding under shelves, or to his change in tone when she had woken up. If anything, he was lucky she had not gone into full-blown panic. She seemed to do that more and more often as her self control, that had been vital when she was at the orphanage, kept slipping now that her life didn't depend on it anymore. He supposed it was a variation of a scheme he'd observed often enough in abuse survivors, especially Slytherin children: testing the limits, often unconsciously, to know immediately which frame they could work in. As a matter of fact, he'd once had the same sort of behaviour, though less marked, because of the verbal lashings his disappointed father kept directing at him. For children such as Aren, who had been moved from one abusive situation to another, the reflex would be all the more ingrained, as she would just see this situation as a third abusive setting she didn't know the rules of yet. It also explained her increasing restlessness. She hadn't figured yet what was wrong and was most likely expecting doom to befall her without notice, and she had something — Miss Lovegood — that she would not stand to lose.

"Joseph Matthews barely fits the criteria for being considered as human. In fact, I'd consider him more a beast than a man. There are numerous safe and balanced methods to ensure proper behaviour in children, to educate them adequately, and none of the ways he used on Spurgeon's wards was among those safe and balanced methods. Has Albus not told you that?"

"H-He- I think he tried but when he heard Mr Matthews' name, he went all white and then we went to get my things."

'For the sake of all that is good in this rotten shitpile of a world, Albus, please do your damned job.' "He should have. Hogwarts is designed as a place the protect and nourish children physically, emotionally and intellectually. I will repeat this as many times as needed, we do not harm children."

"How can I know you're telling the truth, though? You're an adult. Those lie , all the time." From other students, this might have meant detentions for a good month, but he knew that she meant that not as an insult but as a truth that she'd understood from her past experiences.

"What if I were to discuss a charm with Professor Flitwick that would protect you should a member of the staff turn to violence? Would that make you feel safer?"

"Not safe, really, but… safer, yes."

"Very well. Have you calmed down?"

Aren startled, as if she had just realised she'd been having a calm conversation with him for a while now, and she probably had, because she simply nodded and looked down at him, as his head was slightly lower than hers in his crouched position.

"Then I suggest we both get some much needed rest. From what Albus just said, you know that you are to stay with me until I have a save protection in place for you?"

"Yes." She looked around, obviously searching something. "Do you even have the room for that? Or I can sleep on the couch!" She added in a rush.

"It is alright. It just so happens that all teacher quarters have a number of hidden doors that lead to additional rooms, in case they have family with them, and that the castle opens when they are needed. Until then, they are unavailable."

"Will it even recognise that I'm here then? I'm not family, so the castle would have no reason to open a door for me."

Severus stopped in front of a door, and looked down at her. "It appears Albus already took care of the matter, because this door is definitely not there usually. I will go rest for a while," he gave her a side glance, "and considering your emotional exhaustion, I think it would be good for you too. A house elf will have probably brought you some basic items for tonight, and tomorrow we'll go to your dorm room to pick up what you need."

"Is that really ok? Won't that annoy you?"

"I'm indifferent, and we can't let you move around the castle on your own. Right now, the risk would be too high."

"Oh. Alright. Good night, then, professor."

"Good night, Miss D— Aren."

She smiled tiredly. "Thank you."

* * *

The rest of the week was spent in much the same fashion. She and the professor would get up, perform their morning ablutions, then eat a simple breakfast — unless tests were necessary, in which case it was better that Aren abstain — before moving to the laboratory where the professor would try to prepare alternative solutions, and sometimes asking for her cooperation for compatibility tests, between which she easily kept up with whatever her year-mates were learning that day.

After a while, Professor Snape had started fiddling with the idea of using ritual markings on the skin, to increase the potion's natural effect. He had quickly realised that this would only doable if the design of those markings was easily seen and repaired, and it led him to turn the potion itself into a sort of temporary tattoo ink that would provide an anchor for the her magic and redirect it to whomever was alive to receive it.

The ebb and flow of the magic through the tests had taken a toll on Aren, and most of the tests had led to her having brutal nausea in the best of case, fainting in the worst, and anything in-between. The professor had determined that it was her own magic reacting to the draining, and that this was to be expected and could not be avoided.

By the end of the week, he now had a potion that was midway between a liquid and a paste, and reused some of the ingredients from the previous potion that would not harm Aren, while replacing all the hazardous ones with milder versions and ingredients that on the whole had a much less noxious effect. He'd also heavily inspired himself of the Draught of the Living Dead, and the final product was a mixture of asphodel, bat liver, centaury, bulrushes, poppy, wormwood, and almond oil. For the final colour, he'd used Ashwinder ashes, that were light-grey when dry but the blackest black when in a mixture with oils [a].

The professor and Aren were now in the infirmary, under the strict watch of Madam Pomfrey, about to go through the first real "live test" on the little girl.

The whole thing was pretty underwhelming, really. This first time, Professor Snape drew the the patterns on her wrists, ankles, and neck; a weaving of swirly pattern that somehow resembled branches. Once the ink was on her skin, they had to leave it rest for about ten minutes, so that it was no longer wet but wasn't dry yet either. At that point, the professor added the finishing touch: dusting the surface of all the markings with cinnamon dust, acting as a setting powder, a sealant, and an activator.

When the professor passed the brush over the last inch of the tattoo around her neck, she just plain fainted.

* * *

Aren couldn't believe how free not having to worry about her magic would make her feel. Now that the weight was at least partially gone, enough so that she wasn't a risk anymore to the other students, she realised the she had at least on a subconscious level held her power back for years out of sheer instinct. Or at least, that's the hypothesis Madam Pomfrey had come up with when she'd gone back after two days for a check-up on the state of her magical core, and she'd described the feeling to the nurse.

This left her feeling near-constantly giddy, with a strange tendency to giggle, and sometimes even skipping in the hallways. Her dignity held her back from that, but it was a near thing. She still ran wherever she went, and this time she was on her way to the charms classroom after leaving transfiguration, to meet Luna. The second year was waiting near the door, most of her year-mate already gone.

"Why are you alone? Don't you have potions? I'm going this time, with you!"

"Normally yes, but apparently the class is cancelled. All the potion classes have been, since tuesday."

"Tuesday? But it's Friday! No one finds it weird? Professor Snape was absent on Tuesday, true, but I thought that was because he was catching up on sleep. He'd been up all night finishing my potion."

"They don't really care, I think. It's less potion classes, so they're happy." Luna gave a sad little shrug. She was one of the rare students that genuinely liked the bitter professor. Most Slytherins claimed they did, but it was mostly out of self-interest.

"... You up for going to his rooms to see if he's alright?"

"He might not like that. Heliopaths like their sleep."

"Helio— Weren't those supposed to be fire being? I'd say Professor Snape was more on the icy side of thing, no?"

"They are fire being, yes. Doesn't have to be on the outside though."

"... You'll explain that to me later, okay?" Luna answered with a small nod. "How about we go down there, knock on his door, and if by the third attempt he hasn't answered, we'll just leave."

"Alright."

They quickly made their way down, avoiding a few fourth year Gryffindor playing nasty pranks on unsuspecting Slytherins, and reached the door to the professor's rooms easily enough. She knocked once, her other hand still in Luna's, and waited three minutes before knocking again. She was about to knock a third time when she heard a vague sound behind the door, and waited a bit more. Luna just kept staring peacefully at the door, and then it banged open.

A very tired looking Severus Snape, wearing only a white sleep shirt and black pajama pants — she'd lived with him for a bit more than a week and it was the first time she saw him wearing anything looking short of perfect neatness — was leaning against the frame of the door.

"What— Miss Dumbledore. I thought this might be another professor. Can I ask what you're interrupting my rest for? For your sake, it better be the end of the world, because nothing short of that would justify your waking me up when we don't have class." He tried to sound as aggressive and snappish as usual, but it was a brutal failure in that failure. His voice sounded muffled, and his breathing was laboured. Looking closer, Aren saw that he was extremely pale, even for the dungeon bat that he was, save for two spots of red high on his cheekbones.

"We were worried— Well no, the fault's on me, I dragged Luna here. I was worried after hearing that you'd been shut in your room for four days, so I decided to check. On you. I'm not sorry." She jutted her chin out in a fruitless attempt to make herself look as serious as she felt.

"If you were worried, did it not come to your mind to let me rest so that I'd actu—" He never got to finish that particular sentence, because then he just collapsed to the ground in a heap of limbs.

Aren froze, an image of Philip laid out prone on the ground, dead, flashing before her eyes. Luna gripped her shoulder, softly enough to not hurt but hard enough to startle her, before speaking.

"I'll run to get Madam Pomfrey. Check him over. He won't be as angry if it's you. I have longer legs." Then she took off in a sprint, so different from her typically bouncy strut that Aren just stared for two seconds before turning back to the potion professor. She started by listening to his breathing, and sure enough he was breathing, but it was a wheezy sound that indicated his lungs were completely clogged. His pulse, when she checked it over, was fast and irregular, and his skin was overall like the door to a furnace; he was burning from inside. She ran to where she knew a faucet was, took off the robe covering the rest of her uniform, and jammed it under the near-freezing water, before running back to the professor and wiping his forehead with it, then his neck, focussing on the nape like she'd seen Fey do so often with Lucy, and his collarbones, then ran back to the faucet to rinse her uniform and do it all over again. She was wiping his forehead after a third back-and-forth when the fireplace burst into greenish flames, Poppy Pomfrey stepping out of it. She checked him over too, and Aren quickly updated her on what she'd done.

"You did well, dearie. Now I'm going to go back to the infirmary, and I think I could well need your help, if only for the simpler tasks that I won't have the time to do myself." Aren nodded precipitately, before Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and said an incantation Aren didn't know, making a silvery hummingbird appear [b], before talking to it. "Go to Remus, and tell him to bring Filius with him. Severus is sick and I fear something might be afoot. Meet me in the infirmary urgently ."

The silver bird bodded in the air once or twice before taking off too fast for Aren's eyes to follow it. The healer then summoned a sort of stretcher that was floating in mid-air, and with a strength that surprised Aren, lifted Snape off the ground and onto said stretcher.

"Aren, I cannot bring Severus to the infirmary through the floo so we'll have to go there on foot. I'm going to ask you to climb on the stretcher, and to try and hold him as steady as possible. The stretcher will automatically follow me, and I'll be running so he might fall otherwise. This'll gain us some time."

Aren obtemperated and quickly climbed to the man's side, sitting on her knees besides his ribcage. When the healer started running and the stretcher moved to follow, she immediately grabbed the bar on the other side of the stretcher, using her left hand to press on Snape's shoulder enough to hold him in place while not hindering his already difficult breathing.

She did not really register the trip to the infirmary, as she kept focussing on Snape, checking his breathing regularly. Once there, Pomfrey used her surprising strength to move Snape to one of the infirmary's bed. Then, she took off his nightshirt, revealing that his ribcage were bruised in a series of hollow, concentric circles originating right in the middle of his ribcage.

"Aren, please go to my office. In the second cupboard, on the right, you'll find potions labelled in alphabetical order. Bring me a bruise salve, an decongestive unguent, and a fever-reducing potion. Hurry." She set about muttering while waving her wand above the man's prone form, and Aren ran to the office to find what Pomfrey had requested; she came back with the little containers at the same speed, but with more care as she was afraid of letting the bottles drop to the floor.

Pomfrey immediately took the fever-reducing potion and almost shoved it down Snape's throat, before massaging his throat to force him to swallow the mixture that she knew was disgusting at best. She then turned to Aren.

"I will now chant a spell to help him breathe, by providing him with some of the air I am breathing myself. I will not be able to sleep while I do this. You will take the decongestant and apply it over the whole of his ribcage while I do that, to free his lungs as soon as possible. The little pot should have a dose for one person, so don't stop putting it on until the thing is empty. Clear?" Aren nodded quickly, and Pomfrey glared at the door to the infirmary. "What in all of hell's seven blazes is Remus doing… Alright, let's go."

She went back to chanting over Snape's ribcage, before ending the spell by pointing the tip of her want to Snape's face. She then started taking deep breaths, deeper than one awake usually took. She gestured Aren with her other hand to start. The unguent was sticky, a sort of weird gooey-but-dry texture, at it felts icy as soon as she put her fingers in it. She took some in her hand and put it in the middle of the professor's chest, before rubbing it into the skin in widening circles. When she warmed it with her hands, it smelled strongly of something between anise, eucalyptus and mint.

She repeated the operation several times, every time she felt that the skin was starting to chafe beneath her hands because of the lack of unguent. Soon the pot was empty, and the nurse waited five more minutes until the healing pomade had had some time to act, before ending the spell that shared her air with the professor. He burst awake, then threw himself over the side of the bed and basically coughed his lungs out. There was a rather impressive amount of blood, and Aren started panicking again. She took deep breaths, trying to ignore the coppery smell of blood, to try to regain her calm. She could not afford to lose it now.

But Pomfrey was tugging him back into the bed, and after checking his lungs again, gave a nod to Aren.

"You did well. I will now apply the bruise salve. Can you please find a flannel to wipe his face with? Then another one for his forehead."

"Yes ma'am." She went and came back, the two flannels wet with cold water. While the older woman worked the salve into the bruising, she wiped the professor's jaw of the blood that was still there, making sure she hadn't missed any. Now that the crisis was passed, or at least the urgent part of it, she found it oddly calming to take care of another human like this. She had watched Fey doing this for the other children back at the Lambeth orphanage, the first act of kindness she'd seen from a human to another, beside that food Fey had smuggled out of the kitchen on that first day.

Just as she was putting the other flannel on Snape's forehead — when had she started thinking of him in such casual names? — Madam Pomfrey finished with the bruise salve. She cleaned her hands in her apron, before spelling both her hands and apron clean, and then turned to Aren.

She was a bit unsteady on her feet, now that the adrenaline rush was over, and she felt near ready to collapse on the ground and sleep. She'd slept in worse conditions before, after all, so it wasn't that much of a deterrent.

"Oh dearie. Come, come. You did so well. Time to rest for a bit."

She helped Aren to the bed next to Snape's, and sat her on the edge of it, before taking of her shoes and pushing her softly to lay down. Aren was asleep before the nurse was done tucking her in.

* * *

She was woken up by a piercing murmur, like someone was trying to scream while still keeping it down to a whisper. After a few seconds, the words made it to her brain.

"— have died, Remus! It's a lucky thing that Aren even went to check on him. And she's also the only one who was here to help when Snape was on the verge of dying of suffocation and a too high fever!"

"I hear you, Poppy, but the fact is that I was not aw … ow I am on the day after the full moon, even without the sleeping draught, and I …" the other person, Professor Lupin, she supposed, seemed downright mortified. "... what he has?"

"It looks strangely like an integration illness. But that would make no sense… He's had his on his coming of age, like all of us, and you can only have one. One surge of magic is dangerous, a second one is unheard of. And where would the magic even come… from… anyway— oh shite ." She ran out of the office, to the space between Snape's bed and Aren's. She took a sample of blood from the professor, before turning to Aren.

"Aren, sweetheart, can I have some of your blood? I need to test something. I'll do it right under your nose if it can reassure you as to what I do with it."

Aren nodded, and the nurse waved her wand above the crook of her elbow, before setting up a potion station on the other side of the room but right within Aren's line of sight.

"Remus! Come here please. I'll need your help." Aren made to move, but Madam Pomfrey stopped her immediately. "No dear, you need your rest. You had quite the eventful evening, and I just took some of your blood. Stay in bed, please. Remus, by Freya's over-ripe tits, come over right now !"

The defense professor ran over looking like a kicked puppy, and Aren had to stifle the urge to giggle at that. She checked to see that Madam Pomfrey and Professor Lupin were well and truly focussed on their work, before getting off her bed and going to sit on the edge of Snape's bed. She waved her hand above his mouth and nose, checking his breathing, and she lightly stuck her shoulder to his heart, listening for his heartbeat. Everything seemed way better than earlier, but she was still worried, a feeling she thought justified when she put her tiny hand on his left cheekbone and pulled it back immediately. His skin was still burning.

She felt oddly attached to the man, but she supposed that it made some sort of sense. He was the first adult to know what she'd been through, and to neither ignore the issue nor pity her for it, but instead tried to find a compromise that would make her feel safe while still maintaining a somewhat stable and healthy lifestyle. He'd called her Aren, even though he'd been the one to give her the name Dumbledore. He taught her things, and tried to solve her weird freakishness.

She didn't want to lose the first real positive, present adult figure she'd had in her life.

She curled up next to the professor, finding a little spot between the man's arm on the cover and his ribcage. She intended to watch over him for a while, but soon the fatigue she'd been pushing back caught up to her, and she fell back to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** [a] Ingredient symbolism for the living ink topical potion:

Asphodel (Draught of the living dead) - normally induces lethargy, dampening for magic in small amounts with a stabilising base  
Bat liver (Draught of the living dead) - calm and control  
Bulrushes (Docility) - Decreases toxicity, calm  
Poppy (oblivion, eternal sleep) - lowers magic, lethargy  
Centaury (healing) - combats poisoning  
Cinnamon (spice) - dynamism, clearing of the mind  
Wormwood (absence) -Toxic, lethargy (absynthe based)  
Almond - pasty texture, non-irritant  
Ashwinder ashes (ashes in which an ashwinder has nested) - pigmentation (true black)

[b] Poppy Pomfrey does not have a corporeal patronus in canon, but I needed her to have one so here we are. Hummingbirds are timeless messengers, associated with healing and speed.


	9. Chapter 9

Poppy Pomfrey was stupefied . There was no other word for it. She knew her results could only be right, she'd run the test three times because she couldn't believe the outcome, but damn.

Severus had explained to her that the potion he applied on little Aren's skin. That it would leech out some of her magic, enough to render her stable, before redirecting it to her closest kin of age. When the potion master had collapsed and ended up in her infirmary, she'd immediately recognised the signs of an integration illness, but had almost dismissed it because she'd been there for Severus' actual integration illness, when he was just past seventeen.

The usual symptoms were difficulty in breathing, high fever, comatose state, the occasional delirium… and concentric circles around the core of the wizard. This changed from wizard to wizard, but she knew that Severus' was in under his sternum, and so once she'd taken off his shirt and seen the marks maring the skin of his chest, there really was no denying it.

A brutal and intense influx of magic, such that could trigger an integration illness in an adult, would have to be monumental, and she couldn't imagine such a thing… until she'd remembered just exactly what they'd done at the beginning of the week. Aren was a growing blue blood, which meant that her magic was restless; and she had tremendous reserves of that magic, which is just what caused them to go with that ritual in the first place.

This suggested that Severus was Aren's closest living, of age relative, and Poppy had immediately gone to test the two children's blood for compatibility — nevermind that Severus would strangle her in her sleep for thinking of him as 'child' — and the result had only corroborated that. The issue was, Severus only had family compatible with the test on his mother's side. His father's line was completely muggle and did not compute with the potion she'd used. She also knew that Eileen Prince had been the only daughter of the family, and that her only children had been Severus. Either they were only very distantly related… or much more closely than she'd even considered.

She sneaked back closer to the children's bed — dammit, she was three times Severus' age, she had a right to call him that — and was surprised to see that Aren had bundled up close to her bitter professor, as if seeking heat that she should normally have found in her own bed. Poppy retrieved a blanket, that she laid atop the little girl, only leaving her face to emerge from the cover. Then, she used an old, archaic really, spell that was normally used on pregnant women to determine if the child's paternity was 'pure and faithful'. Bullshit if you asked her, but it had its uses; and anyway, she'd had to learn it, by requirement of the Selwyn family; the bloodline had to stay pure.

She softly waved over Aren, taking great care to include her in the spell as the child and not the mother, before directing her wand at Severus' chest in a final loop. They both glowed a silvery white, strong enough to wake Severus from his sleep but not Aren, who was still dozing in the crook of his arm.

He blinked a few time, confused at the light, then looked in Poppy's direction and couldn't articulate anything more than a very elaborate "uhrf". The nurse grinned at him, and she could see the dread on his face. He knew that whatever she was about to say, it was big.

"Congratulation; it's a girl!"

* * *

At first, Severus did not register the sentence. After a dozen seconds or so of mental blank, he looked down at Aren and, pushing aside his surprise at seeing her curled up against his side, looked back at the nurse.

"I can tell that. She'd have punched me in the face, or tried to at least, long before now if I'd been wrong about her gender."

"No, no, Severus, you don't get it," the infernal woman retorted, " congratulation , it's a girl!"

"What do you— Oh. Poppy, I thought you above this kind of nasty jokes. What is she even doing here?"

"Well first, she's the one who helped me save your life. I called for Remus but he was still under because of the full moon." He jerked his eyes back towards the girl, surprised that she would show enough level-headedness and consider him important enough to even mildly assist in his healing. "Second, what you just went through is your integration illness."

"What? But I already had mine. You were there, for Ela's sake!"

"Exactly. What could possibly have generated enough influx of magic to trigger an second integration? Hmmm?"

"Nothing, ma magic is already settled and you know it as well as I do."

"Well, true. That is, until last monday. And then you started missing classes the next day. What happened on monday?"

"Nothing much, except for… Oh are you kidding me ?"

"Not at all, Severus. You're her closest kin. And that shine from earlier was from confirming a suspicion. Your father's side of the family wouldn't react to the kinship potion, and you know as well as I do that your mother's line only produced you. Your mother was an only child. This means she either is a very distant relative… or a very close one. So I did a paternity test for you. Congratulation, it's a girl."

Severus let his head flop down on his pillow. What. What .

"But all Death Eaters were rendered sterile after the Dark Lord's defeat! The mark twisted our magic and broke something in all of us when he died. That's why I can't perform healing spells beyond the very basics!"

"Turns out that it wasn't your case, apparently. If I had to take a wild guess, I'd say it's because you had already taken your distance from You-Know-Who when he fell; the mark didn't have as much of a grasp on you as it did all the others."

"Still, I… Wait. I think there is one instance, but… it was in one of the meetings after the Dark Lord's fall. In… the beginning of 1985? February? And I was… completely drunk, to be perfectly honest."

"Do you remember who? Could we let their family know that Aren even exists? The poor dear had to live in an orphanage so I'd assume her other parent is dead."

"I-Yes, I remember. Most of everything is murky at best but I do remember who I left with. Damn, she's not dead at all. She's Aimée Selwyn." He made to get up but immediately felt that he couldn't without waking up Aren, and that was definitely the worst timing to do that. "The poor excuse for a woman probably dropped her the moment she was born. I'm surprised she even got to term."

"Aimée Selwyn? If I remember well, she married into the family some ten years ago… She's a Malfoy by birth, or well, their french cousin."

"Yes, well I suppose I should see her soon, if at least to have a list of medical antecedents in the family. For Aren's sake. And I can't exactly send anyone else with this kind of information."

"That seems to be a good idea. Could you ask for her date of birth? From the day of Aren's admission at that first orphanage, it might help us fill the gaps."

"Sure enough." He sighed. "I'd better wake her up. It's soon to be time to get up anyway… Oh, wait. No. It's Saturday, isn't it? Or not. My brain feels like porridge marinated in scotch. No brewing for me in the next few days, I suppose." Poppy hurriedly acquiesced with a very energetic nod.

He softly lifted the lower section of the arm that was curled around Aren, until he could just as gently grab her shoulder to shake her a bit, hoping to wake her up without startling her into a panic. That had happened during the week she'd stayed with him, and he was grateful that minor cuts were still within his abilities to heal. He had suspected that her magic might act out because of the surprise, but not that she'd swing a small dagger, a knife really, into his face. She had only narrowly missed his left eye.

"Aren?" Another shake. "Aren, please wake up. Pop— Madam Pomfrey has something to discuss with you."

One of her fists, until then drawn close to her chest due to her curled-up position, went to grab at one of his fingers resting on her shoulder, catching it in a death grip, but the child didn't wake up. Snape took that chance to study her features, to look for himself in her face. He needed some kind of proof, he thought, because the possibly that she'd be his daughter was so staggering, so strange, it could only be wrong.

But as his eyes roamed her face, he could not deny it. He could see some of the less disgracious Prince and Snape traits. Her high cheekbones, her small mouth and earls, her long eyelashes, her thin brows. The shape of her eyes was definitely from Selwyn's side, though, as was her straight and small nose. He would have thought the white hair and blue eyes were also traits inherited from the that woman, but he knew for a fact that they were ever present in blue blood wizarding folk. Furthermore, even if he barely remembered the… encounter, he had met the Malfoy cousin often enough at Death Eater meetings and knew that the woman's hair were a pale yellow, and her eyes a faded pale blue, where Aren's were a deep blue shifting to purple.

Merlin. The girl was his. He'd done to her exactly what his father had done to him, even though he'd sworn to himself he never would. No, her situation had actually been worse. Unwanted as he had been by his spiteful father, his mother had loved him. Aren's had probably thrown her out within the first month, if not the first week. Was Anselme Selwyn even a latent bearer? He couldn't remember.

The girl would hate him, like he'd hated his father. The fact that she'd hate her mother even more once she knew who and where she was, where she had been the last eight years, could not even serve as a consolation. It would only mean more pain for the girl. His daughter. Damn. Would it not spare her more to tell her nothing? But betraying her confidence this way was beyond him. His years of teaching while maintaining his cover as a loyal Death Eater had turned him away from any potential job that had to do with education; but he'd always wanted to have a child of his own. Not more, even though he'd longed for a sibling himself, because he knew himself unable to emotionally handle more than a child at once. But just one child… And now this child was one with so much potential for pain.

He felt rotten.

The little girl stirred, and it startled him back into paying attention to his surrounding. Poppy hadn't moved from where she was… she had apparently been staring at Aren at the same time as him. The focus of their attention opened her eyes, and immediately snapped into a seating position.

"Professor! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep on you, I swear…"

"There was no harm done. You actually helped with the cold, marginally."

Oh, how she beamed under the praise. He'd seen her stay stoic when faced with a number of his colleagues' positive comments, and that she'd react so positively to his own was incredible.

Poppy spoke up, and broke the spell.

"Aren, dearie, let's get you back to your own bed please. Let poor Severus breathe." She obtemperated without any comment, sitting with her legs hanging off the side of her cot, looking between his face and Poppy's. Apparently he'd become rubbish at concealing his emotions overnight, if she could pick up on something being wrong so easily. He still wasn't sure he should tell her.

"Considering how worried you were, I think you'll be happy to know that Severus will be alright. He's had a simple integration illness, and should be right as rain by lunch tomorrow at the latest."

"Integration illness? I thought those only happened when wizarding children reached their magical majority?"

"Normally yes, because it happens when their body is fully grown and ready to accept the full weight of their magic. This only happens once in your life… in theory. But Severus received such a large influx of magic at the beginning of the week that his body was basically kick-started into another one."

"I suppose we're lucky it happened just after my tattoos and… not… before…" she frowned. "Professor, are we related?"

His voice failed him, so he simply nodded, and that's when Poppy dug the knife further in. "He's not just related to you, Aren. I tested you both not even an hour ago. He's your father."

He could see it on her face, the moment it fell brutally from her worried frown to a horrified look, looking again between Poppy and him, back and forth. It was unexpectedly painful, to see her so disgusted with the idea of being his daughter, to see her reject the idea so adamantly, nevermind that he'd had trouble believing it himself.

"I'm sorry!"

What?

"You shouldn't have to be stuck with me, I'm so sorry I'll, I'll make myself as little of a burden as I can, I promise, you don't even have to see me— wait no there's class, should I leave the school?"

"Aren, Aren please calm down there's no need to panic. Also, what? What do you mean, burden?"

"And oh no, my magic did that to you didn't it? I almost killed you I'm so sorry I never meant to—"

Severus gently but firmly grabbed her shoulder, so the gesture could not be misinterpreted as aggressive, then leaned enough to be almost eye-level with her; the bruise salve had done wonders, but it still didn't work miracles, and his ribcage still ached.

"Aren. Calm down. You did not harm me. In fact, you probably saved me a great deal of pain by coming down yesterday, even if I did not want you to. And you also helped Poppy heal me. You did nothing wrong."

"I exist and I harmed you with just that!"

"You did not. You took the decision to follow my lead to reduce the strain you put on yourself and you tried to keep your classmates safe. You did well , Aren, on every aspect."

"But you'll still be stuck with me unless I leave, and you didn't know, did you? And there's no way you'd want a child like me, I'm a freak—"

"Aren." He interrupted her softly but decisively. "I think I've made my opinion on this word being used in regards to wizarding children clear enough in the past week."

"But there's still nothing that would make me a good child! I'm impulsive, impolite, irrespectful, a liar, a thief, a conceited, idiotic, ungrateful brat…" She seemed to be on a roll with the descriptive, and Severus had to remind her that he was here and interrupt her rant again.

"You are nothing of this. I am ready to bet you are just regurgitating what Joseph Matthews kept telling you, and he's wrong. You're showing much promise as a witch, you will have access to remarkable reserves of magic once you are ready for it, and you show remarkable maturity, both intellectually and emotionally. I admit you seem to be socially stunted, but well, that's not unusual in gifted children as you seem to be, and I was like you, if not worse until much later in life. If you need proof, Professor McGonagall still calls me an hermit on a weekly, if not daily, basis."

She sniffed.

"I have Luna. She's nice." She sounded both defeated and petulant.

"You do. I had a friend too; Lily Evans. We stayed very close until the end of fifth year. Anyway, do not assume I will automatically reject you. It just so happens I always wanted to have a child. I did not have much of a healthy family when I was young, and welcomed the idea of making my own."

"One child? And I'm here. I just ruined your chance at that, then. Either you have one useless child or you have to have more than one."

"I already told you, you are more than adequate and I am not disappointed at all, though I do admit that I will need time to get used to the idea. And you might have guessed considering my reputation, but I am blessedly single so another child, even if I wanted one, seems rather unlikely."

"... Sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know. This mess, I guess. I fucked up a lot of things."

He took the girl in his arms awkwardly, unused to showing physical affection ever since his childhood best (and only) friend had decided he was unworthy of it; she was still so thin, so small for her age, even though she'd been fed properly since she'd gotten to Hogwarts.

"If anything, I had expected you to be disgusted with having a parent like me ."

"What? But you're one of the best professors of the whole school! McGonagall too, I suppose, but I don't have as much freedom with experimenting in her class."

"Being a good professor, even if I didn't know what my reputation with the other student is, does not mean I would be a good father."

"Yes, but I mean, I did try living with you. For a week. That was nice."

"No offense, Aren, but your past experiences mean you have far lower expectation than many, if not all of your classmates." He took care to let some of the humour he felt transpired in his words, chuckling lightly at the end of his sentence.

"Not all. Luna, she likes you. Really. I think. And Harry… from what little I've seen, I think his living conditions are not so far from what mine used to be."

"What could you possibly mean? Potter is no doubt pampered beyond reason by his family, and I am rather convinced that he takes it for granted, if he does not consider his due."

"I think you're wrong. He's… he looks like I do when I don't want people to know I'm anxious. I also think… when I shook his hand, about two weeks ago — you know, when I ran out of your lab; his hand was covered in scars. Old cuts but also lumpier things. Actually, considering how the state of one's hands matter when brewing a potion, I would have thought it'd be the first thing you would have noticed. But yeah, I have a bad feeling about Harry's situation."

"I find it difficult to believe, but by know I know that you would not fib about this, not considering how blunt you are and how close to home the subject hits for you."

"Will you check in on him?"

"Yes."

"Thank you…" He was startled when Aren yawned again, then curled up a bit more and went back to gripping the front of his clothes. "I'm really happy, you know. Much better than whatever sort of family I imagined for myself when I was still stupid enough to—" Another yawn. "To believe I might find it one day."

"Rest, now. I'm not going anywhere, and you spent a good bit of last night tending to me when it should have been the other way around."

"Hmmmm…"

* * *

They were disturbed about an hour later, if you could call it being disturbed, by a dreamy-eyed Lovegood carrying an angry, anxious looking Duister with all her hair standing on end and pawing at Lovegood's arms to try to get to Aren faster; the Ravenclaw's seemed undisturbed.

Severus had intended his daughter on her bed, but once she had fallen asleep his will had failed and he'd kept cradling her. Poppy had come several times to check on his condition, but she hadn't managed to get him to give up on the little girl. It gave him a sense of reality, the fact that she slept there peacefully; it kept him from believing this had all been a weird dream caused by the fever. Still, Poppy had given him a cursory examination and let him know that while the integration illness had abated, it was not over yet.

The young potion master was actually mildly horrified to see that everytime he had a slight emotional peak, whether it showed on his face or not, his and Aren's magic in him followed. When he'd thought back to everything he'd not done to help a daughter he didn't know he had had, the nearest window in the infirmary had cracked and then crumbled to dust. Nothing Poppy couldn't fix, and she'd done just that in one spell, but it was still worrying. Considering how annoyed, stressed, tired he felt after any given class, he feared for the safety of his student… And this time, not because of their being doomed to mediocrity regarding potion-brewing.

He'd have to get it back under control as soon as Poppy finally agreed to let him out.

"Hello, Professor. Are you feeling better?" Lovegood gently asked.

"Somewhat. Thank you for getting Madam Pomfrey, yesterday. It is fortunate you came to see me at the time you did."

"Aren wanted to. She was sad to see that no one else was worried. I was happy to come along, but it's all thanks to her." Her eyes widened further. She naturally looked perpetually surprised, and the facial expression just accentuated it. "Oh, Duister wanted to see her, I think. Can I let her down?"

Duister didn't give him the chance to answer and finally escaped Lovegood's hold, only to jump on the bed and snuggle with Aren in his lap. He tried to shoo the blasted animal away, but it was more stubborn than Minerva was when she hadn't had her morning catnip tea. Better to let it stay here... as long as it didn't wake the child. Lovegood just shrugged and smiled before skipping to the edge of the bed to sit there.

"Miss Lovegood, what exactly are you doing?"

"Sitting, sir. I want to look at Aren. Is the burning better now?"

"The what?"

"The burning. You're an heliopath, right?"

"A what ?"

"An heliopath. A being of fire. I thought you knew…" She turned to Aren. "Has she figured it out?"

"Do you ever not speak in riddle, Miss Lovegood?"

"I avoid Riddle as much as I can, thank you." Severus just stared. He was beyond asking. "I mean, has she figured you're her father heliopath?" Well, apparently he wasn't beyond choking on his on saliva. "She was burning, before. Something consuming her from the inside, but less now, because you're burning in her place. It was too much for you too, at the beginning, but I think you'll be alright now." Her hand was softly carding through Aren's white hair, seemingly not afraid of waking her friend.

"Is this Lovegood-speak for ' she is your blue-blood daughter and I knew all along but things will be okay now '?"

Her hand never stopping, she lifted her face, beamed at him, and just said "Yep!"

Severus gave up and just leaned back into his bed.

* * *

They were both released from the infirmary that evening, Snape with the strict order to keep to his bed until at least the end of the following week and Aren with a slight tonic and a comment from Madam Pomfrey stating that she had an instinctive grasp of healing. She'd said that if Aren was interested in a few years and still showed the same propension, she'd be willing to take her as an apprentice. Aren wasn't sure how the nurse could know she was talented at it after only one night of fumbling around a potentially dying man, but Snape had explained that Healers usually had a one-month trial period, to make sure that the student did have an aptitude for healing.

Aren felt stuck in a weird place. She was still horrified by having stuck Snape with her, and at having put him in such a dangerous situation; at the same time, she felt an instinctive need to stick to him, to stay as close as possible. She tried to rationalise it, thinking that it was her fault that he was in a tough spot in the first place, and that she ought to make sure he was safe; but she knew deep down that she was just fascinated, and just short of desperate: Severus Snape was probably the only shot she had at family, and she wanted to get her grip on it and never let go.

So when the potion master had exited the infirmary, she had followed him. Very close. The only way to get closer to him would have been to actually clutch his robes into her tiny fists. She'd followed until he had reached his rooms, and when he'd gotten in front of his rooms, she'd just stood there at his open door, not saying anything but still hoping he'd invite her in. She was terrified even though there was nothing to fear. She felt like she was acting like a baby, and some part of her was disgusted at the rest of her, for being so weak.

Snape went through the threshold, and she opened her mouth to speak but could not bring herself to say anything. She must have made some sort of noise, still — and Snape must have heard and felt her dogging his steps from the infirmary to there anyway —, because he turned to her, his face tired and deep black circles under his eyes, his eyebrows retreating towards his hairline.

"Something wrong, Aren?"

She shook her head violently from left to right, but it was obvious he did not believe her when one of his eyebrows went back down.

"Somehow I doubt that. Come in, I will not be able to sleep immediately. Would you want some tea?"

Shit. He was supposed to rest. She shook her head again and finally stepped in, grabbing his left sleeve and forcibly dragging him towards the first sitting spot she could find, which happened to be the living-room couch. It would not have worked had the professor been in his usual shape, but as weak as he was at the moment, he offered no resistance. She sat him there, and she went to the kitchen corner where she set about making tea herself, for both of them. After a weak of living with him, she was familiar enough with the place to at least make the professor some tea.

Ten minutes later, she was back in the main space of the living-room, a tray in her hands with two teacups and a kettle on it, as well as sugar, milk, and even honey, though that had taken some rummaging to find. She set the tray on the low table in front of the couch, and added two sugar to the professor's cup, but couldn't remember for the life of her if he liked milk in it or not. The dilemma was solved by Snape emitting a satisfied hum, extending his hand towards the cup. She gave it to him.

"I suppose that means you're not about to be cooperative about my getting back to work immediately?"

"No."

"Figured so."

They sat in silence for a bit, simply sipping at their tea. When Snape got up, Aren immediately followed suit, having no idea of what it was exactly that she wanted to do, but still not wanting to leave the professor on his own. He looked at her for a few second, before picking up the tray with the tea and cups and walking to the sink. When he made to wash it, Aren grabbed his sleeve again and dragged him to where his room, or at least where what she thought to be his room, was. It was a testament to how tired Snape was that he actually grumbled under the treatment.

"I don't give a shit, Sn— sir , Madam Pomfrey said you had to rest and you will rest."

"And how are you going to make me exactly?"

"I'll blab about you to her if you don't."

Apparently, Snape did not like that. He roughly tore his sleeve out of her grasp, before stomping the rest of the way to his room and slamming the door. Aren gave him about fifteen minutes, taking that chance to sort everything and put the cleaned dishes back in their places, then when she realised most of her books were back in her room in the Slytherin dorm, locating the ones she needed to do her homework while Snape slept. One she had everything, she sneaked back to the door Snape had gone through.

She pushed it slowly and silently open, realising that alarms could have been placed on it to wake anyone staying in the room, but also that she could do nothing safe about them. Nothing at all, actually, now that Snape had most of her magic. No alarm seemed to blare, but she knew that if there was one, only Snape would hear.

It appeared there was none set, however, because when she finally peeked in — large room and tall window and large bed with night-blue sheets and many pillows, a chair in one corner with robes and pants thrown over the armrest — nothing moved beyond a shape in the bed that was indubitably Snape sleeping, his ribcage raising slowly with his breathing before lowering again.

Aren slowly walked back to the living-room, sat in the couch again, and started on her homework for the following monday.

* * *

 **A/N:** As it's not possible to add pictures or links within the fic itself, you're welcome to my Twitter to get a look at a couple illustration tagged #BlueBlood I put there. My handle is AnyaDess there :)


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Well. I had 5 items planned for this chapter and ended up writing only one in 5000 words. Oops. The rest of them will be in later chapters, I suppose? Haha.

* * *

A time later, Severus had awoken to find Aren still seated in the living room of his quarters, slumped slightly on a side, dozing off. It was just after four in the morning, and she had a book, Of the Uses and Abuses of Blood in Potion Work , in her lap, open a third in. He could see little numbered strips of parchment poking out of the book here and there, and it seemed she'd taken notes in a little notebook at the same time referring to particular stripes.

He made to close the book and get the child in a somewhat horizontal position, but her eyes snapped open at his first touch on the book. He didn't expect that any more than he expected the little hand that immediately slapped itself into the center of his face, a finger poking his eye after scraping the bridge of his nose. Being used to the Dark Lord's crucio hyperactivity, it hardly phased him, but it didn't make the experience comfortable. The hand kept pushing, and he had to grab the girl's wrist to wrestle it from his face. Damn she was strong.

Aren seemed to suddenly snap out of her funk, looking wide-eyed at him, before immediately looking down, hunching over in a posture that reminded him too much of the submissive one Death Eaters took in front of their master for comfort. Her eyes fell in front of his face, and he recognised that , too. She was breathing fast, but not faster , and he thought that it was more due to her panic when waking up than to her present situation; her wrist was still in his hand, although all the rest of her was held as far from him as she could.

"Calm down. I am not attacking you, merely trying to get you to a more restful position." She raised one of her brows, although the expression lacked the bluntness and sarcasm it usually held. "Yes, I suppose you are awake for good now." He let go of her wrist.

"What time is it?"

"Barely past four."

"Oh." She yawned. "Yes, there's no chance I'll sleep again today." She turned to him. "Are you hungry?"

His stomach chose to answer for him with an uncharacteristic growl that would have made him blush had he been anyone else. He was famished .

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"Well, you were out of it for three days so it's not surprising."

"Three days ?"

"Madam Poppy came to check on you two times a day, to make sure that you were not relapsing. She also said that the sleeping was normal. Lets your body adjust to the additional magic."

"Sensible." He made to walk to the kitchen, when the child grabbed him by the wrist as he had done a moment before and dragged him to the table, making him sit.

"She said ' no effort '. I'll make the food, I'm used to it."

She set about making breakfast shortly, with a strange familiarity. She knew already where things were, it seemed, even if he asked her if she needed help for the form. He hated being dependant on people.

"No. I made food for myself in the last two days so I know where everything I need is."

"You cooked for yourself?"

"Yeah- Yes . I learned at the orphanages, both of them. We had to take part in the chores, and it was a rotations for everyone. Sometimes mopping the floor, sometimes laundry, sometimes ironing. Cooking was more often though. You can wear somethings several times if you need, but you need new food at every meal." She left unspoken the fact that sometimes they were not allowed food, but he knew it and he knew that she was aware that he knew.

"I am, ah, glad to know of your skills, but I meant that more as an inquiry as to what did you do the last three days? Surely you left at some point?"

"I didn't, actually." She flipped an egg. "Spent the whole time here. Luna brought me everything I needed… Sorry, she knows the Slytherin password, although I'm not the one who gave it to her."

"I am starting to think that there is very little Miss Lovegood doesn't know. What do you mean, everything you needed?" He said just as she slid the eggs into a plate and put stripes of bacon in their place. One, two...

"Well the food was brought here by a house elf, a weird one named Dobby, but for the rest of it she had to bring it here. Toothbrush, soap, pyjamas, my books and homework…"

"Are you telling me that you stayed here, waiting for me to wake up, skipping your classes in the process?"

"Yeap— Yes. "

"And there is nothing striking you as wrong in this? Aren't you in a school and here to learn?"

"If I wanted to learn, I'd stop going to class altogether and just read books. You know as well as I do that I haven't learned anything while in class since at least three months, and I'm also starting to be caught up to Luna's year as well."

"The fact that you missed class without authorisation is still—"

"I didn't," she interrupted him. "I wrote a letter to Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout as soon as I took the decision, asking politely for their comprehension and ensuring that I would be back to class as soon as you would be up and about. I didn't expect them to be so supportive but there was no objection voiced, so I just stayed here." She brought the two full plates to the table.

Severus sighted, but he supposed she was right in that regard; it's not like she'd have learned anything. And he had to admit, although you'd have to kill him before he'd say it aloud, that the sentiment touched him somewhat. He rarely got recognition and care from his peers, much less from students, most of whom despised him.

They ate in silence, Aren sneaking off the table between two bites to grab the book again and read it as she munched on bacon. When they were done, she made to move to wash the dishes, but a wave of Severus' wand sent it all to wash itself instead, and they were left staring at each other over the table. Severus was the first to talk.

"So. I think we should discuss… what we learned. About how we're related."

"Yeah."

"Yes."

Cue awkward silence. It was too enormous a thing to grasp all at once, and neither of them knew where to start. Still, a few details had to be discussed eventually, and they both knew that the sooner they did that, the better for all involved. Aren was the first to get a grasp of things, and asked, her eyes resolutely staring at the table between them:

"Do you know who my... mother is?"

"Yes."

"Is she alive?" She was beating around the bush, she knew, but she could not decide whether hearing yes or no would be worse, because then came the real question.

"Yes."

She had to tear the question out of herself, and to Severus it looked like she had grasped at a nerve inside an open wound to brutally tug at it.

"Was there any good reason at all for why she left me on the doorstep of an orphanage of more than dubious reputation?" Was I that disgusting, that much of a freak that she had to get rid of me as soon as she could? She did not have to say those words; they were clear enough to both of them.

"I… have my suspicions as to why she did it but either way, it is no excuse for what she did." He waited for a few moments to see if she'd answer anything, inquire further, but she was still staring at the table between them, and the only hint that anything was going on in her head at all was her tightly clenched fists. He saw one or two drops of blood —still looking deceptively red— fall on the table top, and moved to try to unclench her hands softly with his own. "She was a french cousin of the Malfoy line, significantly younger than Lucius —that's Draco's father—, when she was pawned off to the only Selwyn still living to produce a pureblood heir. She was nineteen, I believe." He paused for a moment. "She was barely twenty when I met her, at a meeting with… former acquaintances. I was…" he had to swallow and brace himself for what was sure to turn the girl against him. "I was drowning my sorrow in alcohol, as was my tendency at the time, after losing the only real friend I ever had. To put it bluntly, I was wasted. She was trapped into a marriage of convenience, and I was a handy tool to distract herself from that. A non-reluctant tool, though I'm not sure you can call it willing considering I was barely aware at the time. We parted in the morning, and saw each other from a distance at later meetings, but I never had any reason to suspect that she might be pregnant with you. She hid it well, and now that I think about it, she stopped coming to meetings after the fifth month."

He managed to open her hands at last, and saw a row of small red semi circles in each of her hands, although the charm on her blood was probably only active on visible blood because the red faded to light blue next to the marks. He brought out his wand and wordlessly set about healing the small cuts.

"She probably realised what was up the moment she saw you. From what I understand, not only is Anselme Selwyn sterile, as he learned a couple years ago, but he's not even a latent bearer of the blue blood gene. He'd have known the moment he saw you, so she probably passed you off as dead."

"She sent me to Spurgeon's so that her husband would not know she had cheated on him with an unwilling partner. I spent six years fearing that thing we had as a superintendent, because she didn't have the guts to admit she fucked up." He looked up from her hands to her face, surprised to see she wasn't crying, as he'd thought from the wobbling of her voice. It was shaking from rage instead.

"To her defense, she'd probably have been killed if he had know. She probably wasn't aware I was a latent bearer in the first place, so she thought she could pass you off as his child. Until she saw you, that is. But knowing what I know of her, she didn't leave you at Spurgeon's. She'd have had you killed to avoid the risk that the whole thing would be discovered."

"Why am I alive then?"

"She wouldn't have gone to kill you herself. Too much of a risk, if she had been seen doing it. The one to… spare you? Was probably the one sent to kill you in a narrow alley."

"What is her name?" She asked.

"What will you do with that information?" He retorted.

"I want to confront her. I was to ask her why." When Severus opened his mouth to answer, she didn't let him. "I know you just told me. But you said yourself it was suspicion more than fact, and I want to get it from her."

"I won't give you her name. I can't keep you from looking from it, but the moment she knows that you are alive and that you know who she is, she'll try to eliminate you, and that is a risk I'm not willing to take."

Aren's feature lifted in surprise at this.

"Would you care?" She asked.

"Care about what?"

"That I might be hurt. Or killed. Does it really matter to you?"

"I… What? Of course!" Damn, very eloquent, Severus. "I told you yesterday, I am still unused to the idea, and will be for some time, but I am glad I have a child and that this child is you." He could not refrain from showing some snark at the end, and added with a smirk, "you are, after all, slightly less dunderheaded than the average student."

The only answer the girl gave to that was a hollow laughter, so Severus kept going. He guessed she would need time to internalise the fact that he was happy with her, although a bit wrong-footed by the revelation.

"We do have a couple issues to solve urgently, though. The first is: do you want to acknowledge what we discovered?" A blank stare was the only reaction of the child. "I mean, would you be alright with being my daughter? You know that I can be… 'bad', if you put it in simplistic terms, but you do not know my worst."

"I don't care. I'm a pain in the ass to most people anyway so we'll get on juuuust fine. Right?"

"I suppose, but I think you'll need more information on what I mean first. I can't give that information to you without consulting with the Headmaster first, so my second question is: are you fine with discussing this with him? Properly taking you into my custody cannot be done before that, for reasons that I cannot tell you without his agreement."

"He's my guardian in the first place anyway, right? So we would have to talk to him regardless."

"You make sense." He looked at the clock. "It's almost five… he should be up shortly, if he isn't yet. We'll make our way there at half past six."

"Excuse me," she deadpanned, "but I remember saying ' no effort '. If anyone here move, it'll be me, and to fetch the headmaster." She paused, "anyway, he'll need an explanation as to why you couldn't take your classes this past week." She got up, put her chair back in place against the table, and walked to the door before turning towards Severus again. "I'm going to clean up. You are not to move. You get your butt into that couch, take a book if you want, but you're not even supposed to be out of bed."

She stood there, looking at him and him looking back, until he got up and, with much grumbling, took a book at random in his shelves and went to sit on the couch. She then opened the door and disappeared in the hallway, closing it behind her.

He turned back to his book, before noticing the forgotten potion book on the low table, grabbing it instead and choosing to look at what notes Aren had taken.

* * *

"Oh fine! I'll go there by floo then!" He snapped at Aren.

"Hell no. You're calling him and he's the one who will move his arse over here. He's not the one with an integration illness."

"And you intend to keep me from going there how, exactly?"

"Calling Madam Pomfrey?"

"That's low."

"All is fair in love and war. Now call him over and sit in that couch. You. Should not. Be standing."

"Fine." He had to admit to himself though, that she was probably right. His legs hardly supported his own weight, and walking was a trial in and of itself. He still wondered how he'd gotten himself back to his quarter from the infirmary, and strongly suspected that it had more to do with Aren's magic than with his capability to walk. He didn't dare imagine what going up the stairs to the Headmaster's office would have been like.

He promptly complied, and while Dumbledore made his way over to the dungeons, he sat back in the couch, Aren's book, which was actually his, still in his hand. When the Headmaster arrived, he made to get up to greet the old man but a sharp and loud ' tsk ' from Aren's general direction made him stop the motion and get back to sitting. The fact that, as he realised, he was still in his sleep clothes made it all the more humiliating to be ordered around by an eight years old student. The old man chuckled at the scene, and Severus thought that indeed, it would be all the more humorous to the batty headmaster considering that he didn't know yet the truth of their family link.

"Good morning, Headmaster," he greeted.

"Severus, my boy! How good to see you up and ab-" He was interrupted by the loud sound of someone clearing their throat, obviously Aren. Severus closed his eyes as the girl walked to Albus' side and tugged at his sleeve.

"Albus, please, don't go giving him ideas. It's already hard enough to keep him in his quarters, and I've had to threaten him twice with Madam Pomfrey already. We don't need him to go strutting around in the castle when he can barely stand."

"Oh dear, you're right, Aren. Well then," and he sat in a chair like it was his own quarter, "Severus, what prompted this… convocation?"

"There have been news regarding why I am… in this state, as well as a couple of Aren's peculiarities. I would have given her more information, but I wanted to run it by you first."

"And what would these news be?"

The younger man took a deep breath.

"Poppy probably told you, or maybe she didn't, but…" Stop stalling, Severus ! "What got me in the infirmary was an integration illness."

"Severus, are you sure of that? Aside from the fact that you're already thirty-four, which is unheard of for an integration illness, you've also already had your integration; you can't have it twice ."

"Actually I can, Sir, if the magic that I have to integrate does not come from my own core."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you do remember that Aren had a collapse in the hallway a couple weeks ago, and that you subsequently put her in my temporary custody?"

"I do, yes, but what does this have to do with that?"

"As you required, I found a way to control her magic; or rather, to transfer it to her closest living, mature relative. I used this old recipe in a family book to come up with a new potion, with similar effect but without the drawbacks and the damage it would have caused on Aren's health and sanity. The thing is, the day after we applied the ink, which you can see on her neck, wrists and ankles-" Aren lifted the bottom of her pyjama leg, "I started feeling light-headed, weak and mildly delirious. By that evening, I was running a high fever that would not subside with the help of a fever-reducing potion."

Dumbledore did not speak, but waved his hand at Severus in a manner that clearly invited him to continue. He conjured a cup and a teapot, and helped himself to what smelled like blueberry and vanilla mixed with black tea. Aren had trouble imagining what that tasted like.

"When Aren and Miss Lovegood came to check on me, the effort to get to the door actually made me lose consciousness. Next thing I knew, I was in the infirmary, feeling way better, hearing that I'd had a nasty start to a second integration illness, that Aren had helped quite a bit in keeping me alive through the night, and that she is my daughter."

That one surprised the Headmaster, because he promptly spewed out the sip of tea he'd been taking in Aren's face, who was still next to him.

A low "ewww, ick ick ick" and a loud " what? " overlapped in the next instant. Aren quickly charmed the liquid off her, just as Albus continued.

"She's your? How? How long have you known? Wait, you just said that, the infirmary. How was it checked?"

"A potion to ensure that we are magical relatives, then upon Poppy's suspicion a paternity spell."

"Therefore accurate enough." Dumbledore hummed for a few seconds. "You realise, Severus, that considering your role, you cannot publicly admit paternity?"

"That's exactly why I wanted to discuss this with you. Doing so would put her, me, and a number of other people including Potter in danger, if only because my cover would be blown. The stars know Rookwood has been enough of a suspicious pain in the a- backside recently."

"You can say arse in front of me, you know." Aren interjected. "If you need the reminder, I grew up in the streets. I'm pretty sure my vocabulary is more flowery than yours in terms of profanities."

Dumbledore chuckled at that, only making the girl's smirk widen.

"I keep a certain sort of decorum for my own satisfaction, Miss Dumbledore-"

"Aren. We both know what my name should be."

"Aren." Then turning back to the Headmaster. "I would still like to be able to talk frankly about the situation with her. I won't give her any of the minute details, but it'll still explain the big picture and why I can't allow myself to be publically her father."

"You have my permission, of course," Albus easily agreed, "but are you sure you are not rushing into this? Far from me the idea of keeping you from family, but once you decide to acknowledge each other, magic will not let you go back, administrative forms or not."

Severus, pensive, looked at Aren. The girl had reverted to that posture he was beginning to hate because of what it meant: back hunched, shoulders drawn slightly up and inward, holding her arms in front of her stomach as if she was feeling a particularly aggressive bout of cramping in her digestive system. The girls was obviously terrified, and if the manner in which she had reacted in the infirmary was in any way indicative, it was because her crippled sense of self-worth did not let her imagine anyone would want a ' freak ' relative like her. He faced the old man again, holding his head high to compensate the fact that he was still seated.

"Had I been aware that she'd been born, she'd have lived with me. I wouldn't have known her before hand either, would I? It's not exactly her fault that I didn't know, and she has as much right to this as any other child. And since we're going on about why I would actually want her to be my daughter, she happens to be trying to keep me alive, which is rare enough these days to make me want to keep her around. Now why she'd want me around is another mystery but she appears to be set."

Dumbledore stayed silent during his whole declaration, the twinkle in his eyes growing more intense by the second till it was impossible to ignore, though all involved chose to not mention it. Snape, feeling uncharacteristically naked after the admission, chose to get up but was immediately stopped by Aren.

"I am only going to the bathroom, Aren. I will have to go at some point regardless of where you want me to sit."

When he'd passed the door into the hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom, the Headmaster turned to Aren.

"You know, my girl, let me tell you something before Severus comes back and tries to save his dignity: I don't think I've ever seen him as… soft, I'd say, as he is now. You know very well how he can be during classes, but that is oddly enough his 'mild' I-am-mean personna; with adults, he tends to be even more prickly. Even as a child, he was bitter and aloof and distanced himself from everyone, except Lily. And I want you to keep a thing in mind for me."

"What is it?"

"Sometimes, he will probably sort of 'relapse'. There is no recovering from hiding yourself from everyone for thirty-odd years in a fortnight; it will take time if only to break the habit, although I'd say you're on the right path for that. But please, when he gets snarky or aggressive or downright painful, remember that he's hurt just as easily as you are and that it's usually his way of hiding that." The twinkle in the old man's eyes only intensified. "You are quite similar, in that regard. But though I'll never tell him less he sting me with a hex, I love him as if he were my own son, and I love you this way as well, and I am glad to see that you might forge this bond together. And think, this way I get to keep you in the family!"

Aren giggled just as Severus walked back into the room, and Albus winked at her. The potion master suspiciously squinted at Aren and Albus in turn, clearly sensing something had been said, but gave it up as a lost cause.

"Severus, you can of course get her up to date on your role, but everything must obviously be kept under wraps." He got up and grabbed some floo powder, throwing it into the fire. "Well, I'll be going back. The day is starting soon and I have to be present at breakfast. Oh," he stopped just before stepping into the fire, "Aren, do you have anything you need me to pass onto your professors? I expect this discussion might take a while, so I doubt you will be present at least this morning. Poppy did tell me that you had taken to watching over Severus anyway," he gave a pointed stare at the tall man, "and that you would probably refuse to leave his side for the moment, though I understand your reasons better now."

"I have two essays, one in herbology and one in defense. I'll get them."

She wasn't gone long from the room, barely a minute, but Severus had to go through the whole thing with Albus staring at him with that same sort of benevolent, grandfatherly smile he always had one when he knew he was right and was getting kicks out of it. Damn old coot.

"Here. Thank you, Albus."

"You're welcome, child. Well, I'll be taking my leave. I believe you have much to discuss." He made to step into the floo, but stopped again at the last moment. "Oh, Severus, this means you and I, and Aren of course, will need to talk about the summer arrangements sooner or later. Preferably before the summer." He went for good then, not even waiting for Severus' surly nod of confirmation, the characteristic whoof sort of sound produced by the floo.

* * *

"I don't give a flying fuck about your dignity! Now, get your arse back in bed or I'll drag it there myself !"

"I do believe I'm still the figure of authority in here and I will take a shower if I want to ."

"You know exactly what I think about authority, and you also know that I will call Poppy if I have to."

"I haven't seen her here yet, so I'd like to see you try."

Aren squinted at the dour man — her father — then turned around resolutely towards the living room. Snape was slow to follow, in his state of weakness, but he did nevertheless; too late to keep her away from the floo powder, or to keep her from calling Poppy and telling her all about the current situation.

"I'll be over in half a second," replied the stern woman, before her head disappeared from the fire and she made her way over in person. Aren turned to Snape and could see his face slip from mightily-pissed-offness to oh-shitness the moment he saw Poppy in the room.

"Severus."

"Hello Poppy."

"I've been told you were being difficult."

Severus swallowed loudly, but his face was back to his usual stoic mask.

"I think I am allowed the dignity of a shower."

" I think you are allowed the dignity of not getting back into a magical coma, nor of collapsing in the middle of said shower because your legs decided to go on strike at the wrong moment. So unless you want Aren or myself to assist you during that shower —and I don't mean being there just in case, I mean actually, physically helping— you will get back to your bed and give yourself a magical cleaning, and you will stay in your damn bed . Is that clear?"

"I am perf—"

"Is. That. Clear." There was no bartering with Poppy at that moment, and her tone made that very clear. Snape sighed.

"Yes."

He turned back to go to his bed, Aren and Poppy following right after him. He leaned on the hallway wall slightly as he went, and Aren knew that his spunk had been for show. She suspected he was starting to regret even just standing up, and upon reaching his bed he just let himself fall on it.

"I'll take that chance to do your morning check-up," declared Poppy, and she was greeted with a heated but tired glare from Snape, and he got himself seated properly against the headboard. The nurse turned towards Aren. "Can you go and get some tea going? Green and with a bit of ginseng, I think that would help." Aren nodded. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Just as Aren was leaving the room, she saw the woman grab Snape's left arm, and softly but swiftly pushing his sleeve back. Aren made herself less easily spotted, leaving the door open by only a crack, and she looked at Snape's forearm while Poppy placed the tip of her wand to the crook of his arm.

A large, black tattoo was there, slightly faded but still extremely deep in colour. It represented a human skull, and out of its mouth hung a snake that appeared to be knotted around itself. If she looked closely, it almost seemed to move. Aren shuddered.

She closed the door some more and went to make tea.

* * *

 **A/N:** I have been cross-posting this story on here and AO3, and I just caught up here, so both version are now up to date. That means that updates will slow down (I write a lot but I'm not _that_ fast) but will still be somewhat regular until Exam Hell™ begins (that's in two weeks).


	11. Chapter 11

"Dumbledore, are you done with this bacon? What's it done to you to deserve the murder glare?"

"Uh?"

Aren startled out of her empty staring at whatever was in front of her, the bacon dish apparently, and turned her head so fast she felt one of the joints of her neck crack. Tori was looking at her expectantly, her hand still outstretched towards the dish in question.

"Are you done?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry. A bit tired, I didn't sleep much last night."

"I heard that. You kept tossing and turning like you were trying to make a cocoon out of the blankets," she answered while finally grabbing dish and pulling it to her; even tall as she was for her age, Astoria was still startlingly weak at least physically.

"Did I keep you awake?"

"I was already awake." The taller girl shook her head in this elegant way people from well-bred families do. "Mother told me that now that I have entered Hogwarts, I am obviously old enough to start meeting suitors. I could not while I was here, of course, but I will not have that excuse this summer," she finished in a mumble, her own stare back on her plate and her light brown hair curtaining her face, hiding most of her expression.

" What ? But you're… You're not even twelve yet? You won't be for several more months, right?" Another negative head-shake from probably the only person close to real friend she had in Hogwarts. "That's barely disguised paedophilia , for fuck's bloody sake!"

"The suitors will be barely of age—"

"They still will be," Aren interrupts brutally, "and it's disgusting. It's wrong . You realise that it's banned in Muggle society? There's no reason parents should ever encourage that."

"Like you'd know anything about parents, Dumbledore. With that old man as your only relative, it's a wonder you're not half-goat." There was no need to look for who erupted that comment.

"Parkinson, I don't remember me or Astoria asking for your input, and I'd be really grateful if you could keep your slanderous opinions to the undersized pea that serves as your brain. Considering you're bound to fuck one of your cousin for offspring within the next fifteen years, I'd try not to bring attention to my own case if I were you."

"Shut your trap, Dumbledog ! I already have a secure marriage contract waiting for me to be of age. I know where I come from and I know where I'm going , which you can't really say you do, you little bitch. You were leaching off the Ministry's stupidity, now you're leaching off Dumbledore's self-proclaimed invincibility, and then you'll be leaching off the first man naive enough to fall into your trap. But there's no one who'll ever want a disgusting little thing like you, Dumbledog, because by now we all know you're nothing more than trash with an over-inflated ego!" Parkinson was huffin by the end of her little tirade, having barely taken the time to breathe through it, and she had stood up at some point so that she was now about a foot off to the side of the bench, her hands fisted at her side, her cheeks red with outrage.

"That sounded remarkably like a description of you. And by the way, did you consider the fact that, maybe, getting married to anyone is the furthest thing from my mind? It's called priorities , Pansy, and I would advise you to sort them."

"Of course you don't want to get married. You're eight , for Frigg's sake, and you have no family to hold you to proper Slytherin standard. You're just a little bitch ."

That hurt. It hurt enough that, although most of her magic was gone from her body, she still had enough for it to go coil about where most of it was gone, meaning Snape, and make it snap at Parkinson. The older girl was slapped into the nearby wall, but not away from Aren like anyone would have expected; rather, in a strange diagonal from her, that was curiously parallel with the line of vision between Snape and Parkinson. No one but Aren and Snape noticed, but they were shaken enough that it was irrelevant.

Malfoy, who had hidden his face in his hands on the word 'bitch' either out of fatigue at the antics or shame on Parkinson's behalf, had been startled into standing up by the yelp and subsequent crash into the nearby wall.

Aren was in enough of a rage that she wasn't completely sure she was thinking straight at the moment. She was using what excess magic she had ripped back from Snape to hold the nasty girl against the wall; she wasn't sure, but she might have been holding her by her neck and the temptation to push and crush and flatten was there.

Make her a pancake on the wall. You've done that before, after all.

Aren flinched, and let go of Pansy, who crumbled in a heap on the ground two meters lower, brushed her throat with her hand but pulled it back immediately because of the pain, and a coughing fit seized her. Her face was a mix of paleness because of the fear and purple hues because she'd been suffocating and the coughing was not helping.

But Aren did not see all that, because all she could see is a hag that was not a hag anymore, but a flat pancake of flesh and bone on a wall in a back alley, and her fear rushed out of her in a single note so high it would hurt her own ears enough to make her cry. But she was scared and horrified, and she didn't notice the pain; instead, she ran away without even getting her breath back from screaming. She tore herself a path through the crowd already forming at the entrance of the Great Hall, pushing through the mass of them, even making someone — she didn't know who — fall to the floor despite her meager body mass.

She ran in the hallways for what seemed like an instant that just wouldn't pass. Left, right, right left, straight… she lost track of where she was going and finally, somehow, she made it to the door of her room. The one where she'd stayed the very first couple of days. She found the door open, and engulfed herself in there, closing it behind her. The door disappeared and all that was left was a wall of stones.

* * *

Severus was currently half-standing, half seated at the high table, his hand firmly gripping the edge of said table for balance. He had felt the tug at his magic, or rather the part of Aren's magic that he was getting familiar with, like a brutal rip in the middle of his chest where the concentric circles of his second integration had been until barely three days ago.

He had felt it, but he hadn't been able to stop it for all that he'd tried, and he had been left unbalanced, unsure where up and down were. He'd almost missed Aren bolting from the hall, and he wanted to follow but it had been all it could do to grab the table to not collapse to the ground. And now Lovegood was there, on the other side of the table but still on the dais, smiling calmly at him like she always seemed to do.

Severus slowly turned his head left and right, up and down, testing his equilibrium. It seemed safe to let go of the table now, but he'd do that when he had to move.

"Don't you want to follow her?" The second year asked.

"Do you know where she's gone?"

Lovegood went around the head table, and offered her hand to him. "Yes."

Sending all caution through the window, he grabbed it. Considering the population of the pit of hell that was this school, everyone would probably just dismiss it as 'Luna being Luna' anyway. They made their way back again around the table, and took advantage of people having moved from the entrance to crowd the Parkinson girl to exit without much notice. Lovegood then took a definitely familiar path through the castle: that of his office.

They walked in silence, Severus not even remembering to get his hand free of the girl's grip. But when he knew they should have turned right to get to his office, they turned left instead, then right three times, until they got to… the backdoor to his own office.

"If you wanted to go to my office, we could have gone through the other door."

"Yes, but, you know. Charmed door tend to make an echo when they close. A magical echo, I mean. She'd have spotted us and fled, especially right now."

"You mean she's in my office?" Severus felt sceptic.

"No, she's there." The little girl pointed at the wall. He felt slightly mind-boggled, actually, because he should have been the only one to know that a door was supposed to be there. Never mind that, he should have been the one to think of the place first; it wasn't like it was the first time Aren had hidden in there in situation of stress, and he had been there himself to coax her out previously.

Lovegood was just softly gazing at where a door should have been, a slight smile on her face, as if someone was telling her something extremely interesting and slightly amusing, but he could not hear anything.

"The location of these rooms must be kept secret, you understand. There is enough bullying going on without their flooding her last safe place."

"Of course. The door should let you through, this time, without having to resort to more… extreme measures. Don't believe that'll happen every time though." She spun on the spot then started skipping down the corridor the way they'd come, leaving Severus staring dumbly at the wall-not-wall.

* * *

Luna usually felt like she was moving about in a sort of muck. People's thoughts, their envy, their anger, their hunger, their pettiness; their intent, all summed up… She tried to not see only that, of course. Her mother had taught her how to love, despite her gift, and it was the one lesson she had sworn to never forget. But when all this negativity took the form some sort of tar, dripping out of people when they lied out of self-interest, it was hard to ignore. Everyone had that sort of little light in them, that lit up when they felt happy for doing something genuine. It shone then, but never everyone at once, so that as soon as the line shone it was drowned in tar again. Luna lived in this dirty brown pool of muck and she knew that it would never stop for her.

And then, there was the other sort of poison. Children — she had a hard time seeing herself as one, what with all the comprehension her … disposition gave her — that were muted. Unable to exude tar or light or anything because they had learned, or rather they had been taught, to survive by following the implicit rules of others. Do not bring back a bad grade, or you'll be getting a beating. If the cleaning is not finished by then, you won't get dinner for two days. Uncle brings you gifts, so you have to be good for Uncle. You're worth nothing, you piece-of-shit squib, it's a wonder you came out alive of my niece's womb. Ungrateful stain on our establishment.

There were a lot of those, a lot more than most people suspected, including the Headmaster. She didn't really like the Headmaster. Too calculating, too plotting. Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom were muted, still. Daphne and Astoria Greengrass were, too, but managed to hide it perfectly under their pureblood upbringing. Gerard Willerby and Margaret Ettington, from the Ravenclaw house, were belittled on a regular basis when they were not being beaten, and the Hufflepuff Benjamin McEwen had a too-loving uncle. And they were all so entrenched in the lies and manipulations of their elders that the only thing they thought they could do was keep quiet. Protect their abusers, because the consequences will be even worse if they don't.

Luna knew that was false, that talking was the first step towards being freed of it, but she also knew that the concept was not an easy one for these children to embrace.

So she did what she could, with little sentences and hints here and there. It wasn't much, she knew it, but her ability let her see the impact she had on people, and if she ever was on the wrong track, it was trivial enough that she could change directions unnoticed. She thought that Benjamin might be close to telling his head of house. She was happy for him; she knew for a fact that his parents were unaware and would protect their son teeth and nails, their wands be damned.

Professor Snape, on the other hand, was one wholesome puzzle. He was angry and bitter and aggressive to almost everyone that did not keep their interaction with him to strictly potion-related topics, but she could see that he was muted too. Not only, but still muted. He had the tar, too, but instead of a sliding, melting brown muck, it was a grey clog, a congealed mass of self-hatred and regret, that he sook to alleviate by pouring it onto anything living and breathing in the vicinity. Luna wanted to talk to him, too, but she did not want to do so where others could hear.

In the end, the opportunity had been taken from her when Aren had gotten to school two weeks into her second year. The petite girl had joined Hogwarts discreetly, only letting the students know she even existed for two day via the head of house telling them all to keep away from her. Luna, without more info, had assumed it had been a frail but otherwise ordinary first year who hadn't been able to take the train with the rest of them; good thing, too, considering the Dementor had searched the train near Hogsmeade. So she had dismissed the information, turning back to her books. It was only on the next Monday, when Aren had walked in next to the Potions Master, that she changed her mind, for various reasons.

The first was that the girl was positively minuscule. Luna was not excessively tall for her age but she still dwarfed Aren without difficulties. The second was that the weight of her magic was suffocating with how strong she was. Probably stronger than Dumbledore, though it was a close thing; the only difference coming from the fact that the Headmaster knew how to mask his power, and Aren obviously did not. The third thing was that there was a distinct feeling of reject coming from the magic, as if Aren herself loathed it.

The fourth one was that the child was so muted she was completely white. Beyond what looked like albinism, she was effectively deprived of both tar and light, and there was only this white slate that reminded her of her mother just after the accident. Dead inside. A body but nothing else, no intent. The only thing that differentiated her from a corpse was a sort of blank rage that she associated with hurt animals that were beyond fear or anger or aggressiveness, but just wanted to survive, until suddenly they didn't.

She'd decided to not intervene, because she couldn't even start to know how to help Aren yet. She chose to observe, and learn, and see if she could even do something. A rushed action would not help any; in fact, it most likely would harm Aren more than anything else.

When Bywater had been arrested discreetly, Luna had been relieved. She was pretty sure that he'd been responsible for three first year going muted too, two Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff, but she had no solid proof beyond what the shapes told her, and she was aware enough of how far the proceeding would go with that as evidence: nowhere at all. She knew that Aren had stopped a number of aggressions too, some in a hushed manner, some definitely not, and she was extremely careful to the little girl. The fact that the first year had seemed to be an outcast too was the deciding factor for Luna: on Halloween's eve, when all students had been going to sleep in the Great Hall, she had talked to Aren for the first time, and had been happy to find that she was much more easy to talk to than she had expected. She'd made the same mistake as most other students, she had realised: Aren was smart, and cunning, and extremely self-sufficient… but she still had the emotional needs of a child, even if she'd learned to suffocate thoses needs very early on.

They became fast friend after that. They shared a love of knowledge and an outlook on life that was remarkably similar, although Aren was what some would describe as 'jaded' where Luna was overflowing affection for everything living. They also both knew much more about the going-ons in the castle than anyone suspected — they had decided to not tell on Lupin for his hairy situation to anyone. According to the upperclassmen they sometime heard talking, he was one of, in not the best defense teachers the school had seen in years.

A consequence of Aren working daily with Luna was that not only did she catch up to the rest of her classmates very quickly, by Christmas she had started catching up on Luna's class as well. She'd gone over the first year curriculum on her own easily enough, and by the time classes started again, she was sneaking into classes with Luna when she didn't have to be somewhere with her own class. In turn, Luna infiltrated what Aren called her workout sessions with Professor Snape, sometimes reading a book in a corner or making headway on her homework, sometimes just watching. Those were the rare instances where the Ravenclaw got to see Aren let go of that rage she always had coiled in her, ready to rear its head at the most inopportune moment.

And then one day, Malfoy had poured more of the tar, his venom directed specifically at Luna, at the place where he knew it would hurt most, and for once she hadn't been able to hide it. Unfortunately for Malfoy, Aren had gotten angry , and the magic had lashed out. Luna hadn't be able to drag Aren back out of the rage, until she'd collapsed in Professor Snape's arms.

And then a bit more than a week later, Aren had been bright and alive, showing light for real for the first time since Luna had known her. Her magic had been less . Less aggressive, less overwhelming, less there. And then Professor Snape had collapsed and Aren had gone again, and the professor had gotten better and it became evident that the magic absent from Aren was sleeping inside of him.

Class had started again, and Aren was getting more and more brilliant. She had some episode of tar, too, but it looked remarkably transparent. All in all, it looked like Aren was doing much better, until Pansy had put her foot in her mouth.

Luna could feel some sympathy towards the older Slytherin, as much as she felt for any other child that had been this twisted by their family's equally twisted ideals. Pansy was pompous and arrogant and mean because her family expected her, needed her to be that way. As a child, she hadn't known anything else, and growing up she'd probably felt trapped within the expectations. It didn't change the fact that hearing the words coming out of her mouth made Luna feel angry for the first time in years. She was normally to involved in other people's emotions to really notice her own, but Aren, by the way she was tensed like a bow ready to loose an arrow — Luna couldn't see her face — could just have been stabbed with how evident the pain was in her posture.

Luna hadn't had the opportunity to act on her anger, though, because Aren had done something and it was almost like Professor Snape had slammed Pansy in the wall, when she knew he'd never do that, no matter how annoyed he was at a student. Then a scream, a howl, and Aren had escaped the Great Hall. Luna just had to grab the professor and follow the tar of Aren's pain, still transparent and oddly reminiscent of tears, easy to recognise against the other tracks left all around the castle.

She'd left Professor Snape in front of the wall-not-really-a-wall. Family matters were for family, after all, and she had to get pudding for Aren. No doubt she'd be hungry, afterwards.

Luna skipped to the kitchens, humming a happy tune under her breath.

* * *

Severus did not have to stare dumbstruck for long in front of the hidden door, thankfully. Apparently, the castle recognised his magic and identified him as Aren, because of the enormous amount of magic he stored for her.

The moment Lovegood was gone, the door sort of… faded away, in the way an image on the telly would focus into a single white spot in the middle of your screen before disappearing when you turn the thing of. In its place was the door, as normal as it had always been, and it opened without issue when he turned the knob.

In the room, everything looked like it was in its proper place, not even a fold in the carpet to indicate where a running child could have gone. The bed was empty and as well-made as ever, courtesy of the house-elves, and Aren could be seen nowhere else in the room. He checked in the bathroom, out of perfectionism — perfectionism saved lives in potion work — but she wasn't there either. He closed the door again, then stood perfectly immobile, his eyes closed, to listen for little sounds that usually give hiding people away: a breath just a tiny bit too loud, tiny creaks of the wood, the rustle of fabric. He heard nothing at all, and he supposed his daughter, how weird to use the word, had used accidental magic to silence herself to her surroundings. But there was another sense now, a sort of tug between the two of them, if only because Aren's magic wanted to get back to her. He tried to pinpoint the origin of the feeling, his eyes still closed, and when he had a good feeling of where the tug came from, he opened his eyes.

The wardrobe.

Severus let out a single sarcastic laugh that only he would hear, a stray thought about a witch and a wardrobe in a story he'd read as a child crossing his mind.

When he opened the door to the wardrobe, he was for a very brief instant relieved to see that Aren was not crying, until he properly took in her expression. She was sitting against one side of the wardrobe, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms trapped between her thighs and her chest, somewhat loose. She had her head resting against the wall of the wardrobe her back was leaning on, and her eyes were wide but not bulging out. Her gaze itself, however, was not fixed on anything. It was like she was trying to look at the air just on the other side of the wall in front of her.

"Aren," Severus called softly. "Aren, can you hear me?"

The only answer he got was a soft keen, like a puppy who had just been kicked and was terrified. It wasn't much, but it still meant that she could hear him, which was as good a start as he could hope for.

"Aren, can you understand what I am saying?"

No reaction. Of course. If she couldn't answer his first question, she probably couldn't verbally answer the second one any better.

"If you can understand me, please blink twice."

It felt like he waited for hours, but ever so slowly, Aren's eyelids closed once, and then twice.

"Good, Aren. You're doing well." He made sure to keep his voice the softest he could manage. The Gryffindors would laugh at him if they could see him at the moment, but it didn't matter. Severus always looked about trauma survivors; especially since most of them ended up in Slytherin anyway.

"I am going to take your hand. Is that alright, Aren? Please blink once if I can take your hand, twice if not."

A single blink. He waited a bit to see if she didn't add one a bit late, but then he took her hand in his.

"Now, can you feel my hand on yours? I am moving my thumb on your knuckles. Can you feel that?" There was a slight twitch in her other hand, still tucked between her thigh and her chest. A minute movement of her index, from its curled up position to a more straight one. Really, a twitch. "Good. You're doing very well. Now, can you feel me bending your smallest finger? Can you feel your joints folding?"

And he kept this up for at least ten minutes moving her hand and sometimes just touching it, every time describing what he was doing to help Aren out of her dissociation. At some point, he even tugged a blanket from where it was hanged in the wardrobe to first brush it on the back, then in the palm of her hand, before wrapping it around her tiny frame.

"Can you feel the blanket on your shoulders, Aren? It's thick so it weighs a lot more than you would expect. Can you feel it press on your shoulder?"

And finally…

"... It's warm."

"Yes! Yes it is. What more can you tell me about it?"

"..."

He waited, still as a statue, giving her the time to gather her thoughts and spell them out.

"It's soft. Fuzzy, like fur. Not as soft as Duister," she adds in a murmur.

"You're tight. Duister is much softer, and doesn't she smell better?"

Aren takes a few seconds to understand the question, then slowly raises her hand, covered in the blanket, to her face. She gives it a slow sniff.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what the blanket smells like? With your words?"

"Old wood. Dust. The cardboard hiding us from the wind. Damp."

"That's excellent, Aren. You're doing so well."

And surprise, Aren extirpated her other hand from its curled up position, slowly moving it till her hand is on the back of his. She wasn't gripping or tugging, just putting it there, and he wasn't sure whether it was because she didn't have enough of her motion control back or if it was because she was simply too afraid to ask, but her eyes were not looking at the wardrobe side anymore, staring instead at his hand and hers. Although she still seemed to be what the other students called 'zoned out', she was obviously expecting something, or at least wishing for it.

"Do you want to get out of the wardrobe, Aren?"

This got him the most vehement response yet: a shake of her head from right to left and back, too slow and too small compared to the energy children that age usually have, but it was something. Still, no going out of the wardrobe yet.

"Can I climb in with you then? The floor is very hard."

He immediately regretted his words. The child was probably panicking because of what she had done in the Great Hall, and she certainly didn't need feeling guilty for his knees. She nodded nevertheless, and he settled in there next to her, his legs perpendicular with hers and more than half out of the piece of furniture. He took her hand back in his but was stupefied when she takes it back, then lifted both her arms towards him. He had seen this before, from afar, children waving at their mothers with their arms outstretched, in the universal "pick me up now" gesture. He had never seen it up close, much less directed at him. He had to be sure he understood correctly.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

Another nod, with the same sluggishness but affirmative this time.

He carefully picked her up, arranging himself this time so he was sitting in the corner of the wardrobe, his legs still sticking out but much less than he lowered the child again so that she was sitting in his lap, and suddenly he was feeling keenly what gorilla or bat mothers must feel on a regular basis: Aren was pressing against him, her hands gripping his robes and her face pressing into his chest. He curled his arms around her, lightly brushing circles into her back in an attempt to soothe her some more, voluntarily avoiding her head in case she hated it as much as he did.

The first sob surprised him, and he wouldn't have known it had happened if his hand hadn't been on Aren's back, for she was so silent he couldn't hear her crying. The only indication it was happening at all were the spasms in her ribcage, growing closer and closer, and suddenly there were tears going down her face. He kept rubbing her back and let her stain the front of his robes with snot and tears. She needed it, a simple spell would take care of the problem later, and it would make Aren feel safer before they discussed what had happened in the Great Hall before the following month without inducing more trauma.

* * *

 **A/N:** Once again, I had five items I wanted to develop in this chapter, and I touched exactly... none. Still happy though, because Luna time is time well-spent. Exam Hell Week(s) is over! I should slowly get back into writing.

Till next time, and don't hesitate to comment! Feedback is very, very appreciated. ( ∂ v ∂ )/


	12. Chapter 12

Severus was tucking Aren in on the sofa, after the girl had very reluctantly voiced her fear of being left alone in her room. His own bedroom being decidedly unsafe for an eight years old, and because of the turmoil it would cause if someone not knowing of their blood relation learned a female student slept in his bed, he'd decided they would 'camp' in the living room. It was already just past 3am anyway, so he doubted he'd manage to sleep.

He'd been told, in between a great number of 'breathe and remember you're here with me and not back there' sessions, of how Aren had discovered her magic in a tangible way for the first time. It was no surprise that she had been so wound up when she'd gotten in Hogwarts. Murder, intentional or not, left a deep gouge on the soul that was extremely hard to heal at best, impossible at worst. It did tend to fester in most people, in fact.

That she'd had to witness the death of one of the only positive influences in her life, then be subjected by attempted sexual assault, to reflexively turn the aggressor into a pancake of flesh on the wall… It begged the question of how in Frigg's name she was still even marginally sane. Then again, he supposed that resilience did run in the family.

He hoped that same resilience wouldn't fail him, because he still had to tell her about his role in the latest wizarding war, and he fully expected Aren to be completely disgusted with him if her reaction to attacking someone was any clue. He did find it paradoxical though, considering how she went left and right punching people in the face. He supposed it wasn't the same if the damage was light , in a way.

He sat in a chair of his own near the sofa, and without waking up, Aren mumbled and extended her hand towards the source of the sound, probably trying to grab it. He gave her his hand, but hers was so small that all she could grab was two of his fingers.

He snorted, and settled in for the wait.

* * *

Aren did not wake up in a jolt, nor did she slowly trudge through regaining her consciousness. It simply was that one moment she was asleep, and the next she was awake, and she remembered everything that had transpired the day before. She immediately let go of whatever she'd been holding —Snape's fingers, as it turned out—, the self-disgust making her afraid of tainting anything she was touching, or at least feel unworthy of any sort of comfort that could be given to her. Snape was probably completely repulsed by now.

The movement alerted the potions master to her waking, and he softly greeted her with the same neutral expression he had most of the time they were together.

"Good morning, Aren."

"Morning… what time is it?"

"Just past seven. How about some breakfast? I have things to tell you, but I think eating before that might be our best bet. I expect your appetite to be gone by the end of this discussion."

That was it then. She'd admitted to having murdered someone, and now they were going to ship her off to Azkaban, and she'd been around the dementors enough, even from afar, to know that she wouldn't make it a year if she was sent there. She knew it wouldn't help her case, but she couldn't help starting to cry again, fat tears going down her cheeks, although she managed to not let a single sound out beyond the first whimper that had come out with the realisation that she was basically condemned.

Snape just stared at her, his eyes almost round at her reaction, before his expression changed to a squint, one of his eyebrows up-turned in a questioning fashion.

"If the perspective of talking with me is that disgusting, you only have to say it. There is no need to resort to such histrionics."

Aren tried to answer him, but not actually breaking into full sobs meant that she was not actually able to speak at the moment, so all she could do was shake her head. She still attempted to answer, but that was not exactly a success.

"I- Sor- hic Sorry I'll- hic stop I just-" and then she broke into full sobs. Unlike the night before, when she'd been angry and disgusted at herself and fighting the remnant of a panic attack, and her tears had been caused mostly by those feelings, she was now crying in resignation, which resulted in loud sobs and whimpers and a very, very runny nose. Snape looked like he would rather be anywhere else, probably because he was unused to this sort of emotional display. Slytherins, even when they cried, did it with dignity and self-restraint. Then again, Aren was eight. He finally crouched down, ending up face to face with her.

"I just don't understand what could make you this upset. I'm simply going to tell you of what we discussed the other day. Do you remember? When I said that I needed Albus' permission before telling you a number of things about my work."

Aren fought to at least control her breathing, before timidly asking:

"You're not going to shend me to Ajkaban?" Damn, she sounded pathetic.

"What? What gave you this idea?"

"Becauje- Because I killed someone? And I almost did it to Pansy too!"

"Aren, If I'd wanted to send you to Azkaban, I'd have done that the moment you admitted to murder. Besides… As you will realise if you sit down and have breakfast with me, I really have no room to send you there. If anything, you could have me sent to Azkaban. The least of the reason why being that I committed what is called 'line theft' by producing an heir out of wedlock with another notable family."

This left Aren completely baffled, and slightly hurt.

"I could send you to prison because you sired me ? What sort of bullsh- absurdity is that? Is my birth that much of a mistake?"

Okay, really hurt.

"Not to me, but legally speaking, Lord Selwyn would be in his right to have me judged and send to Azkaban for a few decades at best, a lifetime at worst. And you know that Wizards live long. But we're getting off topic, Aren, and as I said this is the least of the reasons you could have me sent there."

Aren slowly nodded, and walked to the kitchen table, which was already set and ready with food. She sat, and Snape took his place in front of her, his face set in a mask of resignation and… dread? He really, really didn't want to talk about this, apparently.

"Bear with me, this will be a long story, and not a pleasant one. I suggest you eat at the beginning of it bc the rest is most likely to spectacularly curb your appetite."

Aren nodded, and took a slice of toast that she started lathering in blueberry jam.

"I assume you are already familiar with the great lines of the last Wizarding War, the role of the Dark Lord and how Harry-* mumble *-Potter brought an end to it?"

She hadn't caught what that mumble had been about, but she nodded again, this time with a mouthful of toast. She wiped her eye, removing the last of the tears clinging to her eyelashes.

"I am going to start this way earlier, sort of. You see, I am the last heir of a sort of a rather important pureblood family, but I was not recognised as such by said family. My mother, an only child, fell in love with a young muggle heir of a noble family. I won't give you the details, but suddenly she was pregnant, and the heir —who was already married and had a son— was basically booted off the family tree, although his son stayed in the family. He married my mother out of inertia, and then I was born, but he only learned my mother and I were wizards when I started showing accidental magic. That didn't stop him from… turning to alcohol and taking out his frustrations on us. We'd deprived him of a golden life spent in the lap of luxury, when really he had to do was use a goddamn cond- I'm getting off topic.

"All this led to my being an ostracised child with a bully of a father and a weak mother, and I was lonely, until I met Lily Evans." Aren recognised the name but did not interrupt. "She was a young muggle-born witch living on the richer side of the neighbourhood, and I caught her flying off a swing. Literally flying off. I introduced her to the wizarding world, if only second hand, and we became fast friend. We basically spent all our time together.

"This started to change when we came to Hogwards. I was sorted in Slytherin, she was sent to Gryffindor. We remained close friend, but the rest of the school's prejudice slowly pushed us apart. To compensate for her absence, and my feelings of weakness and inadequacy, I took to learning darker —though not illegal at the time— magics, and started sticking close to a group of older students that went by the name 'Knights of Walpurgis', though really they were just future Death Eaters under another name.

"I started picking up their habits and their ideas, in a bid to gain acceptance and influence; this included their views on muggle-born wizarding folk, and it wasn't long before I started using the 'mudblood' insult. At the same time, I was relentlessly bullied by a quartet of Gryffindors, for the simple act of being a Slytherin and friends with a Gryffindor, the only Gryffindor that interested the leader of the quartet. The only student in the school, probably, aside from his three sidekicks. I toned the radicalism down when I was with Lily, because I still valued her friendship more than anything, and the bullying got steadily worse.

"It all came to a head right after I passed my O.W.L. Ja- The quartet cornered me near the great oak by the lake, and decided to humiliate me in front of… I think basically two thirds of the school were out by the lake that day. Lily tried to help me, but in my furious, humiliation-fueled rage, I lashed out at her and called her a mudblood. This was the end of our friendship, though I did try to make amends at the time.

"When I saw that it was inefficient, I gave up and joined the Death Eaters, for good this time, and was branded by the Dark Lord." He pushed his sleeve up, revealing the tattoo that Aren had glimpsed a few days earlier through the door-crack. "I was a real Death Eater, Aren. I believed in hoarding muggleborns and branding them like cattle, I watched some of my 'friend' commit rape on a weekly basis on the young and the old, no matter the gender or the caste. Even on children. I did not take part, but it does not exempt me from the guilt, because I should have done something . But at the time, it seemed inconsequent to me. I still saw muggles as subhumans, and my father's memory did nothing to divest me of this idea.

"And at some point, the Dark Lord started really going off the deep end. At around the same time as he started lugging around Nagini, that humongous snake of his, he stopped limiting his crimes to the muggle cattle and attacking any and all of his opponents. He regularly punished us with the Cruciatus curse, and I was looking for a way to gain his favours and be left in peace. Ha, peace. As if I deserve that.

"Anyway, I found that way completely by chance. I was in a bar when I spotted Albus doing an interview for the divination post, and I witnessed the beginning of a prophecy predicting the end of the Dark Lord. I will not tell you of its contents, as it is much too sensitive, and since I was thrown out before the end of it you wouldn't have the whole thing. I hurried back to my master and relayed to him what I'd heard, and it did give me his favour. I was made his left hand, his pet potions master. I was exempt from the scrutiny and punishment he lavished on the other Death Eaters.

"But I was no longer blind to his madness, and when I learned that the prophecy I had relayed made Lily the target of the Dark Lord, I immediately went to Albus to ask for his help in protecting Lily. He put her whole family under protection, in exchange for the Unbreakable Vow that I would work for his side of the war; the Light side. I immediately accepted."

"The rest of the story, you should know. The protection was ineffective, one of the quartet betrayed Lily and James, and they both died protecting Harry. The Dark Lord somehow failed to kill him, and here we are.

"But I am still working for Albus, aside from my job as a teacher and potions master. We are both convinced that the Dark Lord is not dead, merely weakened, and that he'll be back. For that purpose, I have kept contact with the other Death Eaters that escaped justice, to retain my place as a spy in his ranks, should- when he comes back.

"This brings me to the initial question that brought all of this up: I wish I could publically adopt you, and keep you with me. I really do. But doing so would put you, me, and all of our work in jeopardy. I cannot do it until the war is over. You are most definitely my daughter, and I am proud that you are, but I cannot acknowledge it to anyone outside of a very restricted circle. Albus knows, we know, Poppy knows, and somehow, Luna Lovegood knows too. No one outside of this circle can know that."

Aren stopped looking at him, fixing her stare on her hands in her lap instead.

* * *

When Aren got up without a word, and made her way to the door, he thought he's done it. She was disgusted enough that she couldn't even stay in the room . She reaches the door, opens it a crack, and looks down at her feet for a few seconds, but he couldn't see what she was staring at. The table hid everything below her mid-thigh. He supposed she was thinking of something to say before leaving, but instead, she closed the door again, her eyes following something on the ground. She sat back in her chair, and a black mass jumped in her lap. Duister.

She'd gone to open the door to her cat. Severus didn't think his heart had had such a yo-yo moment in years.

"Just give me a moment. Duister is helping me right now. Making proper sentences. Duister is helping."

Her voice was soft and unwavering, but her stilted wording was evidence enough that she was lost and a bit frantic. She sat there for a few minutes that could as well have been hours, her hand repeatedly ghosting from Duister's cheekbones to the middle of her back. The cat, honourably larger than when they had both arrived in Hogwarts, was purring like a saw and occasionally softly patted at Aren's face, or nuzzled her chin with her nose. At some point, Aren closed her eyes, and Severus would've thought she had fallen asleep if not for the continued movement of her hand on Duister's fur.

"I think I understand why you did what you did," she said without opening her eyes. "It does not excuse anything, but I think in your place, I am as likely to react the same way you did as you were at the time. I don't care. You're my father and I only have one, and I've been wanting one since I was two. I think." She let a moment pass, visibly gathering her thought. "You've obviously been working to try and correct your mistakes as much as humanly possible. Not only out of obligation, otherwise you wouldn't sound so… guilty, about all of this."

She let a few more moments pass, nuzzling the top of Duister's head with her own small nose, then she opened her eyes.

"You genuinely regret your actions, and that's more than you could say about most human beings. It doesn't damage my perception of you. If anything, it makes me respect you more, that you can reflect on your mistake and learn from them. And I understand why you can't officially acknowledge me. You have to choose between the emotional fulfillment of one child and the continued safety of the thousands of people that probably rely on your work as a spy. I get it. And I do not resent it. Can I… Can I just ask something?"

Severus takes a nervous gulp.

"What do you need?" Anything, he'd give anything right now, within his abilities and without destroying all he's worked for.

"If I had been your daughter from the start… What would you have called me?"

"Lily. Or Lilian." There is no hesitation in his voice.

"Can I use that as my middle name? I-I can't change my first name, obviously, if we want to keep things as discreet as possible, but, can I just have this? Something that proves I'm your daughter, even if I'm the only one who knows what it means."

"Of course. Of course. "

And then Severus does what is probably the most un-Snape-like he's ever done in his life. He gets up, and lifts Aren, and hugs her with all he has.

* * *

It took them a moment to calm down, both from the very intense emotional roller-coaster and the general mush of the atmosphere, but they finished taking their breakfast in silence after that. Snape had two spots of mild pink sitting high on his cheekbones, and did his best to keep his composure. There would probably be more to talk about later, but for now, they had classes to attend.

They left the quarters together, Snape to go to his classroom to wait for the first group of dunderheads of the day, Aren towards her transfiguration class, Duister hot on her heels. The teachers were used to the cat being there by now; Duister had been sneaking into classes the whole year and although she still had a weird aggressive stance with professor Lupin, mostly she just wandered out of the way, sometimes sticking close to Aren on colder days or simply when one of them was nervous.

They got there ahead of time, Aren sitting in her usual spot, Ster curled up in her lap. The other students slowly filled the room, and the professor finally came in at eight on the dot. Duister went to her and looped around her ankles a few times, but instead of staying by the professor, she went back to Aren's lap and started loudly purring. Professor McGonagall threw a puzzled look in Aren's direction but did not comment.

The class went well, all considered. Aren had trouble focussing on the class material, considering all the emotion she'd had to deal with earlier, but she had practiced on that particular subject on her own before and had no issues performing the spell in front the class when called out.

The defense class was more tense than usual. Duister hissed at the professor everytime he walked within two meters of Aren, and the girl was surprised the teacher didn't call her out on it or throw her cat out of the classroom. In fact, the professor looked tired, nervous and slightly depressed. He looked like the year was wearing down on him, and Aren had a spare thought for the fact that in mid-April, that still left him with a month and a half of classes… He didn't look like he'd make it there.

All in all, the day was spectacularly uneventful after the revelations of the morning, and Aren liked it that way, thank you very much.

* * *

The next day was much less uneventful. For one, both defense and potion classes were cancelled. Aren remembered the defense professor's state the day before, but mostly her worry went to Snape, and the last time the stern professor had missed class did not give the best example of what could possibly have happened. From the potions classroom, she ran to his quarters and insistently banged her fist on his door, but no answer came and there was no movement to be heard behind the door. Now seriously panicking, she ran to the infirmary to see if Madam Pomfrey had any information or if she could help, when she skidded to a halt.

Snape was there, in a bed, with a long cut on his left cheek, and grumbling at Madam pomfrey.

"I know how to take care of cuts, Poppy, and may I remind you that I'm the one who brews your potions to heal them, especially in case of werewolf attack!"

He was speaking in a strange sort of shout-whisper, and Aren immediately understood why when when saw three figures in beds on the other end of the infirmary. She recognised Harry, and she supposed that the redhead was Ronald, Ginny's brother. They all appeared to be fast asleep.

"If you know so much about cuts and deep gouges on people's face, why don't you avoid getting them you dimwit? "

"It was me or them, Poppy, do you expect me to throw three children to a werewolf to avoid having to put potions on my face?"

"There are other ways than using yourself as a fleshy shield for said children. You could have conjured weapons, transfigured a wall, heck, you could've made yourself a diamond igloo and you would all have been safe!"

"My specialty is not impro-"

"You. Did. What."

Both Snape and Madam Pomfrey turned towards her.

"Explain to me again, what did you fucking do."

"I am not accountable to you, Aren. I did what I have to-"

"You are. I understand that there are priorities and that Harry Potter must stay alive but you also have to stay alive." She quickly walked up to him and punched him in the arm— the only undamaged zone that she could easily reach. Snape winced. "Don't you dare leave me alone now you fucker! That would be the bitchiest move you could pull, I haven't had a father for three months yet!" She did not exactly notice when it started, but she was crying again, and she kept punching his arm, for all that did since she was too small to even really bruise him. "You don't get to be my family then go and waste yourself as a bloody flesh shield…"

At that point, she was crying too hard to even articulate words, much less sentences, and Madam Pomfrey left them after closing the curtain after her. Snape leaned down a bit with a wince, slotted his arms under her armpits and lifted her on the bed next to him before arranging her so he could hold her against his side without aggravating some unseen injuries. Aren buried her face against his ribs, her sobs calming progressively now that she was certain that Snape was, indeed, safe.

"You're right, Aren, and I'm sorry. I'm not used to looking out for myself beyond my work, and it was my mistake. I'm not living only for that anymore."

"Just…"

It took her a moment to gather herself enough to say it, and admitting to such a weakness was almost physically painful.

"Just don't leave me alone, please …"

"I won't Aren. I'll be more careful. I promise."

* * *

Aren stubbornly refused to leave for class that day. She remained with Severus, actually making sure that he let Madam Pomfrey heal him, that he ate, that he rested and didn't get any weird or dangerous ideas that could put him in harm's way. Severus couldn't say it displeased him.

* * *

The next morning found Aren berating Snape again .

"He wasn't in control of his shit! He wouldn't have forgotten his potion if Potter hadn't been wandering all around the place!"

"He is a werewolf! He shouldn't be allowed on school grounds regardless!"

"I'm not saying I like him being here now that I know he's a werewolf or that he should stay on the staff but what you did was puerile at best and another dick move at worst! Even I wouldn't pull one like that! He managed perfectly well with the potion, and the only time he was actually a risk was when he tried to save three student from what he thought was a madman going to murder three students. He should've had the option to defend himself instead of being booted out of the school by bigoted families that wouldn't have known shit had you kept your ego in check."

She could see in his gesture of recoil that this actually smarted for Snape. He knew he had a weakness right there, that his ego sometimes got in the way, and he had let it do just that again. Aren grabbed his hand and dragged him out.

"Where are we going?"

"To the defense quarters," Aren practically growled out. "You've got apologies to make."

"What? That's out of the-" A single glare for Aren, very obviously meaning you better do this or you will have regrets , shut him off and he just followed in silence.

"Good."

The walked for a while —the potion and defense quarters where in directly opposed sections of the castle— and when they reached their destination, Aren stopped just near the door, out of sight from the inside, and gestured to Snape to go in. She also very, very obviously pointed to her ear before pointing back inside, to tell him yep, I'll be listening .

She didn't see much of what happened in the room, but she could indeed still hear.

"Lupin."

"Severus," came the soft response, "what brings you here?"

"I…" there was a long pause, and Aren almost thought he would give up. "I came here to apologise. I have been made to see my mistake by a rather… insistent third party, and while I have reasons to hate you, it does not excuse my behaviour with you. You should not have been cornered this way, and it is my fault."

Lupin appeared to stay pensive for a while, before slowly answering.

"You are right, in that I should have had the possibility to defend myself. You are also right in that you have ample reasons to hate me. But Severus, they are all dead or as good as, and old grudges will get us nowhere. You wouldn't believe how tired I am of all of this. Couldn't we accept that we were both at fault in this whole mess and call it a proper truce?"

"That… seems to be a possibility. But I will not be able to change my behaviour in public. Yu know as well as I do that I have a reputation with certain… crowds , to uphold."

"Of course. That is more than acceptable. Thank you, Severus." There was a brief pause, before he added "Ah! I hear Harry walking over to here. I suspect you will not want to meet him here, so I'll distract him while you go back the other way, alright? He's coming from the left when you exit these quarters."

"Thank you. See you around, Lupin."

"See you, Severus."

He got out, Aren immediately grabbed his hand again. She tugged at it for a bit, until Snape finally lowered himself to her level. She got closer, cupped her free hand around his ear and whispered: "You know, I'm damn proud that you're my dad."

He got up again, without a word, and awkwardly patted her head in a way that scream discomfort; but when Aren looked up at his face, she could see that the corners of his lips were slightly upturned.

* * *

That evening, Aren insisted on sleeping in his quarters again. This was becoming an increasingly common occurrence, but Aren had told him she had served her dorm-mates a lie about her going to sleep in her guardian's quarters. If it worked, it worked; and if Severus was honest with himself, he liked having the girl around, regardless of their father-daughter relationship. She was witty, and intelligent, but also cared enough for three people, and she was brutally honest. She was the sort of person he could see himself becoming friends with, if he met them completely out of luck.

He hated to admit it, even to himself, but accepting a truce with Lupin that day had taken a weight off of him. He had too much anger, too much resentment to deal with without having to handle a grudge that had no reason to still be after all these years. And if it allowed him to regain some of the girl's trust, then it was a win-win situation all around… except maybe for the fact that they'd lost their only competent defense teacher in years. Damn. He'd see with Dumbledore about taking care of the classes until the end of the year, but Frigg save them from getting another incompetent teacher or worse, a psychopath. The one from five years prior had been enough for a decade on that front.

The door to his room opened, and the sound of little naked feet smacking on cold stone could be heard. A small hand shook his shoulder…

"Sev'rus, can I sleep here?"

"Hmmm?"

"Nightmare…"

He lifted his blanket enough that she could sneak under it, immediately followed by a ball of black fuzz. She immediately snuggled close to his side, and immediately started drifting back to sleep.

"Night r'rus…"

"Good night, Aren."


	13. Chapter 13

It was the beginning of June, and Albus had summoned both Snape and Aren to have tea with him to discuss a very… practical point with the both of them. Duister was, as usual, seated at Aren's feet.

"It has not escaped my notice that Aren has spent more night in your guest room than in her dorm this past month, Severus. And I have nothing against it, truly, as from what I understand everyone thinks Aren is coming to my quarters. However, I think that it is time to arrange for the summer." He paused for all of three seconds to grab a sweet, whatever sort it was, before continuing. "In light of your filial bond, I am loathe to separate the two of you so soon after you found each other- ah, Aren, do not be nervous. I think you will like what I have to suggest."

Aren had scrunched up her nose at the mention of separation, her hand instinctively going to grab at Snape's sleeve. She hated this weak side of herself, and it had tended to assert itself more and more in the past month since Aren had broken down in front of Snape. She felt positively clingy, and was still trying to curb it in preparation for the separation of the summer.

"Since I will not be there often during the summer, what I can offer is that both you and Severus move into my house. It is remarkably protected against most tracking and detection spells, which means that not only would you be able to be together for the summer, but it also means you would not be subjected to the Trace, to put it simply." He turned directly to Severus. "I could have most of your materials and ingredients moved to my place, and you would be free to use my personal laboratory."

Snape appeared undoubtedly suspicious of such a good arrangement.

"What would there be in this for you? That deal is much too good to be true."

"I admit it also has some advantages for me. The first is that I will neither have to expose Aren to perilous or beyond boring situations, nor will I have to leave her cooped up alone in there. The second is that I will have someone home when I come back from whatever I am going. And most importantly, considering her magic levels, I'd like you to train her in various side disciplines that are not taught in Hogwarts."

"Such as?"

"Wandless magic, since that will help a lot with her control, silent casting, and most importantly chanting. I believe you are one of the last Master Casters in the United Kingdom, right?"

"The last competent ones, yes," Snape grumbled in response. "You can find plenty self-appointed chanters who are not even worth their own left sock."

"True. Considering her vast magical reserves, and her natural skill in most of her classes, I think she has a good base to become a very, very proficient chanter, especially if she starts training early on."

Snape cocked his head to the side, seemingly in deep thoughts.

"I suppose we can try… But the moment I see any sort of risk in it for Aren, we stop. No negotiation. Same for the other disciplines, actually; my primary concern is her safety."

"Fair enough. Would you agree then?"

"Yes. As long as my brewing is not disrupted and Aren is safe, I am perfectly fine with it."

"Brilliant! Now… Ah, Aren, we're going to be speaking about a number of very boring subject, so you are free to go for now."

Aren slowly got up, glancing at her f- Sna- her father, dammit.

"If you don't want me to hear what you have to say, Albus, you can say so." She gave a wry sort of smile. "I am familiar with the concept of confidentiality, you know. Welp! See you later."

She briskly, but not aggressively, walked to the door, stepped through it, and waved her hand at both men just before closing the door behind herself but after Ster had effectively left the office behind her.

"Now, Ster, how about we go find Luna?"

Duister just purred, her eyes closing, before taking off into a light trot towards what was probably actually Luna. Ster was good at things like this.

* * *

"What do you want to discuss, Albus? And so privately."

"Ah, it's about next year's defense professor. I have had several applications already, seeing as Lupin had to leave early…" He threw a side glance at Severus, before plowing on. "But a few of them seem iffy to me, if I can say so. The most trustworthy and competent to me seems to be Mad-Eye, but you know as well as I do that he's too… volatile to have around student."

"True. But why are you in need of my help in particular?"

"I need you to… ah, discreetly? As discreetly as possible, gather as much as you can on the other candidates. Mostly use your network to collect information; you shouldn't even have to leave Wulfric Manor."

"Wulfric?"

"Yes. That's why it ended up as one of my names, actually. I was named after a gigantic house."

"Rude." Snape scoffed to underline the contempt this notion inspired him.

"It is."

"So basically, you want me to play spy in yet another thing?" Severus' question was greeted with a simple nod. "Very well. Anything else, Albus? Might as well while we're at it."

"Well, there is something else, but it is more of a personal concern and an actual favour I would ask of you, this time, though I doubt you will oppose the idea very much, and I even think you might be… enthusiastic about it."

"Out with it, Albus."

"I suppose you are aware Aren has been the target of taunts and degrading nicknames since she arrived here?"

"Baby Snake, Ravenchick… Yes."

"The latest to date is Dumbledog, I believe because of the brand new tattoo she exhibes around her neck."

"Hmmm?" Severus answered, trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible and lamentably failing.

"I am quite aware of what the role of these tattoos are, Severus. It is hard to miss when Aren has the tendency to look blue when she gets angry instead of red. The first time, I even thought she was suffocating. The only thing I ask is that you rework the design of the tattoo around her neck to place it in a less… evident place."

"That seems feasible. I was unaware that she was being called that… Too bad. I could've assigned detention under the pretext that it was also your name. I think Aren will like it, though, changing places for the tattoo. I've seen her scratch her neck several time as if in annoyance at the thing, but now that I think about it, if she was being called names because of that, it's not surprising."

"Indeed. Well, Severus, I think that is all. I will see you in three days, I believe, when the students have left and we can go back to the manor."

The younger man got up, bowed swiftly, before making his way to the door. "See you then, Albus. In the meantime… I have students to go terrorise into studying." A smirk was on his face, the glee at this prospect evident.

"Have your fun, my boy, but do remember that emotional scarring is not on the curriculum."

"Will do."

* * *

Aren was ecstatic. She got to stay with Snape for the whole summer! She didn't have to go back to the orphanage, or to the streets! Of course, she'd known that she would have been staying with Albus anyway, but now she got to have her father too! She felt the puerile urge to skip as she was dragging her weightless, floating luggage behind her.

She did feel a bit sad that she would be away from Luna for almost three months, but she'd have Ster with her, and Sn- her father, and occasionally Albus too! She almost felt like asking Sna- her father if she could invite Luna over for a night or two, but at the same time she felt like asking for this would be too much. She had to rein in her greediness already. She was going to have holidays, with family.

When most students were busy getting up on the train, she spotted Ginny's familiar red hair, next to a girl with bushy hair and front tooth slightly too long, Ronald, and Harry. Going by what Ginny had told her, the unknown girl was Hermione. Harry was frequently taking something in his pocket, looking at it, and putting it back in. His expression looked decidedly sad. She began walking closer, Ginny walked away from the rest of the group, and Aren could hear snippets of the remaining trio's conversation.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry took the paper out of his pocket again, and Aren saw that it was a letter, before putting it back in his pocket.

"It's just…" He let out a strong sight of frustration, his own hand going to his head to ruffle his own hair. "For ten glorious minutes, I thought I was going to have a real home. I mean… You know what I mean. Sniffles is probably the only thing I have left that somewhat resembles a proper family. You know the Dursleys are nowhere even close to reaching that standard." He looked positively downtrodden, and Hermione looked fairly sad herself. Ronald was just shuffling his feet, shifting his balance, visibly out of clue on what to say to help his friend. Aren decided she might as well add to the conversation, and walked closer, tugging on Harry's sleeve.

"Harry?" He look down to see her.

"Aren! Ah, hi!" He was making an effort to smile at her… and was monumentally failing.

"Harry, you know, I… know what it's like to not be included in the family and… well. I'll be staying with Albus for the summer, and if you want to, I can try to talk to him about inviting you over? Even just for a bit?"

"You'd do that? You hardly know me?" His expression shifted from surprised gratefulness to suspicious squinting. "Why?"

"Because I grew up in an orphanage, well two actually, and Ginny and Luna told me you lived with your uncle and aunt but that they were assholes. Not exactly in these terms, but still assholes. I know what it's like to watch the other kids be loved and have parents and be happy and to be alone in the dark at night." She shrugged. "Just thought I could help."

Harry looked sheepish by the end of her little speech, and while Hermione was busy throwing blasé looks at her black-haired friend, Ronald had taken up Harry's role of I squint at you because you are definitely suspicious.

"I'm sorry, Aren," Harry answered. "I thought… In three years, I've gotten used to people wanting my friendship for what it could bring them rather than for myself, and to them turning their backs on me at the slightest occasion."

"That's ok," and she nodded to underline it, "though I'm not- oh wait no, Ginny told me. About Mouldywart and all that mess. Yeah, I guess in your place I'd have reacted the same. Anyway, consider the pro-"

She was very rudely interrupted by Ronald.

"Did you just… did you just call You-Know-Who Mouldywart?" He was bent over at the waist, his arms cradling his ribs. "M-Mouldyw-ha-hahaha!" Well, they'd obviously lost him. "Ginny told me but I didn't believe a snake would actually call him that!"

"Well, the snake in question happens to be Dumbledore's adoptee, so I don't see how it's surprising. Besides, you forget that I discovered the Wizarding world exactly two days before I started attending classes. Mouldywart can go lick Merlin's asscrack for all I care, really. He has not earned my respect. Probably never will, regardless of his living status or lack thereof."

That seemed to shut Ronald up, and Aren looked at Harry again. He was holding the envelope again with a wistful expression.

"What is this? You know, it won't open by itself," she prompted him. That seemed to snap him out of it, if only a little.

"Oh, I already know what it is. My Hogwarts letter."

"Hogwarts letter?"

"You don't know what it is? They send you a letter once you can attend Hogwarts, to confirm you enrolment. I think it's more or less automatic; you get a letter with your precise address on it, and it has a standard letter from McGonagall inside. You… didn't get one?"

"No. They found me in the streets, Harry, and I'm eight and a half. I fit neither the age nor the location criteria. Can… can I see it?"

"Sure." He let her take it and she carefully looked at it. It was yellowed parchment, with a broken, red wax seal over the closing lip of the envelope. There were a lot of fingerprints on it, even though the fact that the fact that the letter did not have a crease in it after three years told her that it had been well-protected, probably with a spell. She turned it, and on the back was written, in emerald ink and fancy lettering:

 _Mr. H. Potter_  
 _The Cupboard under the Stairs_  
 _4 Privet Drive_  
 _Little Whinging_  
 _Surrey_

She looked at Harry. "Can I get a peek inside?" Her only answer was a nod, and she helped herself to it. Inside of the envelope were several sheets of parchment, flattened with how many times it had been read, and she only read the first one.

 _Dear Mr/Ms. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_  
 _Minerva McGonagall_  
 _Deputy Headmistress_

She felt a pang of jealousy, but she promptly snuffed it down. Had she had to wait for a letter, she'd still be in the streets, or worse, executed. She'd been lucky.

"Here," she gave the letter back to Harry, "I'll try to sway Albus. Can't say it'll will work, but it's worth the attempt."

"Thanks, Aren."

"Have a nice summer, or as nice as possible, I suppose!" She turned to the other two, grinning at them. "You too!" Harry beamed at her from the stairs of the train, the others behind him just awkwardly smiling at her. It was a start.

She waited until the train was only a red spot in the distance, before putting her luggage down near the apparition point and sitting on it. She only had to wait for S- her father, now. Albus had apparently gone ahead of them to set the manor up; there was a good chance they wouldn't even see him, because he had to leave immediately for whatever meeting was waiting on him. She was startled out of her short musing by… her father's hand on her shoulder, and he looked at her with a lifted eyebrow.

"Professor, could I have a Hogwarts letter?" The words were out of her mouth before her brain had finished sorting them out, and she instantly slapped her hand over her own mouth. Sna- her father didn't seemed to mind, though, but he did seem to find the question amusing.

"It just so happens that I wouldn't be surprised if you got one the summer closest to your eleventh birthday. It's an automatic process, from identifying the students to writing the letters and sending them out."

"Automatic? Hmmm…" She thought about that for a while. She would still have one then. But… "How come Harry's letter is addressed to the cupboard under the stairs?"

Snape, who was in the process of counting change for the desk of the apparition point, dropped the whole pouch as his head snapped, so that he was staring at her like she'd grown a third eye and two more pairs of ears —which probably wasn't at all impossible in the wizarding world, now that she thought about it.

"What did you say?"

"Harry, his letter was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs of 4, Privet drive. He let me look at it. And I'm sure it's the real deal and not the result of a prank, because the seal of Hogwarts was there and I know it can't be duplicated. Albus told me."

"Fuck." Aren just stared at him, calmly noting that he was agitated enough to actually cuss in front of her. "I'll have to look into it then. That should have caused an inquiry at the very least, but even more so in the case of Harry-bloody-Potter."

"Hmmm. He was sad, too. Not in a 'I don't want to go back there because I won't have friends', but in a real 'I am dreading going back with every single fiber of my sane being'. I'm worried…"

"I will look into it, Aren. But for now, we have to go. This spot is not exactly the least visited of the neighbourhood."

After a few more words with the witch at the desk, they were gone with a crack.

* * *

The manor was huge. As in, huge. Sure, it didn't hold a daisy to Hogwarts' sequoia, but it was not meant for the same number of people. They went through the front door, and were swiftly greeted by Albus.

"Just in times, children! I have to go now, but all installations should be functional. The bedrooms that are most suited to inhabitation are on the left after the first staircase; the other aren't dangerous, but they aren't clean, and for whatever reason, they seem to be magic-resistant. I think it's a thing my grandfather did. It doesn't keep you from using magic in general, just maintenance spells."

"Hmpf" was Snape's only answer.

"I have to go now, and I'll probably be back in a week." Snape tried to speak, but he was immediately interrupted. "I really cannot speak now, I'm already late… I promise we will speak when I come back."

And he was gone.

* * *

Severus was surprised by the efficiency with which they settled in. They found the kitchen, the living room… then another living room, at least three fully equipped bathrooms, in a good state but very dusty, and at least… fifteen room. They took the first two on the left after the stairs, as per Albus' recommendation, and once the luggage was in the rooms, they immediately started cleaning. They started with Aren's room, which was smaller, so that she could put her things in the wardrobe and truly settle there; then Severus' own room, but he left his things packed for the moment, and they moved on to the bathroom closest to their rooms. Aren climbed in the bathtub and scrubbed, while Severus took care of the higher furniture like the cabinet above the sink, the elevated cupboards holding the —thankfully clean— toiletries and towels… That particular task took them the better of an hour, before they quickly sweeped the hallways and the stairs to make their way to the kitchen.

The spent another two hours dusting, wiping and shining every surface in the room, sanitizing the surfaces intended for actual cooking and eating. They scrubbed the floors, and Severus was seriously starting to wonder if that was why Albus had invited them over for the summer: the maintenance. To their immense relief, the living room was not impervious to charms and it was totally clean in a minute and a half.

They took turns in the bathroom to freshen themselves a bit, but Aren did not linger long in the bath. Severus supposed she'd seen enough of the damn thing for the day. They were too tired to make dinner, and ate simple sandwiches before sitting down in the living room's sofa, Aren with Luna's second year transfiguration textbook, him at her left with a potion publication. Before long, Aren started dozing off, and barely twenty minutes in, the book fell out of her hand to the ground and her head started lolling forward, threatening to disrupt her balance and throw her off the couch.

Severus softly grasped her right shoulder, tugging her softly until she let herself be lowered, her head resting in his lap, the rest of her curled up as if she was trying to bring as much of her as she could closer to him. A soft hissy noise was coming out of her mouth, caused by the air passing between her teeth, her jaw lax. At this moment, she truly looked her age, or even younger. She was still severely small for her age, and much too light, and her too-large pyjamas that she'd put on after her bath did not help this impression.

Around nine, he started dozing off himself, as he tended to do just after the tension of the school year was taken off his shoulders. He decided to stop his reading for the night, and put both his periodical and Aren's book on the low table in front of the sofa, before slowly and carefully extricating himself from under Aren's head. He then even more carefully took her in his arm, trying with all he had to not wake her up. She already had enough trouble sleeping usually as it was. He tucked her in bed and went to his own room, and he barely even remembered turning the light off.

* * *

The next day found Severus going to the Selwyn property, after he had made sure through Lucius that the husband was gone on whatever adventure he fancied at the moment. He hoped it didn't involve unwilling people.

He loudly knocked at the door, three times and leaving several minutes between each attempts, before a house elf opened for him, looking terrified.

"What d-does the Mister want?"

"I am here to meet the Lady of this house."

"T-The Lady does not welcome g-guests at this time, Mister."

"Tell her I am Severus Snape, and that we met roughly in mid-february of 1985. Roughly nine months before she dumped a package on the front porch of an orphanage."

"I will, M-Mister." The poor thing closed the door, probably to run off to his Lady, and he hoped the elf wouldn't get punished for his own bluntness.

The next time the door opened, it was Aimée Selwyn herself standing in the doorway.

"Severus. I believe we have things to discuss."

* * *

They sat in the manor's living room, reminding Severus in a grotesque way of the evening before.

"So I take it you learned about that uh? I don't know how you did that."

"I met the child. That's simple enough. I won't give you more detail."

"It lives? What did… Ah, I don't remember her name. The handmaiden, she was supposed to dispose of it. Damn!"

"That all this inspires you?" Severus asked with all too obvious disgust on his face. "They live, yes, no thanks to you. They went from one orphanage to another and if not for some stroke of phenomenal luck, they would've died in the streets. They don't tolerate physical physical closeness, let along contact, if they are not warned at least half a minute in advance and only with people they manage to trust. They look easily three years younger than they are because of the malnourishment!"

"I had to! I had to, alright? I'd just been virtually sold to Selwyn. The old man may be rich and influential but he is also disgusting and rotten inside. Had he learned of our little escapade, he'd have killed me. You can say whatever you want about the Malfoys, Severus," and the name sounded like an insult, "but if there's one thing they teach their children early, it's survival; well, survival of the fittest, really. Had you been in my place, you'd have done the same."

"I wouldn't have, Selwyn, and do you know why? Because I was in her place before; I'm the bastard son of a noble who couldn't keep it in his pants and hated me with everything he had, but at least I had one parent to love me and protect me as much as she could. You could have given her to me, for Frigg's sake, and I would have taken care of her! But instead you sent h- them to a fucking orphanage where they were molested on a regular basis by the super-intendant and then beaten to a pulp if they resisted!"

Aimée Selwyn paled, but her expression did not soften or even change at all.

"I. Do. Not. Care. I chose my survival above hers, and you can drop the neutral pronouns, I'm the one who gave birth to her you idiot; I am sorry she had to experience that shit but I do not regret, I have no remorse. I lived. I made my choice knowing fully what it entailed, except that the handmaiden fucked up and didn't drop the child in whatever river."

Severus looked at her in disgust.

"I actually regret that you didn't get killed by the old man. It's funny, she's the first one to actually think you qualify as rapist; I think you're actually a psychopath."

"I know you do, and I can't fault you for it, but I won't be faulted by you for what I did. You don't even have room to comment, Walpurgis Knight."

"I had intended to corner you into helping me improve her living conditions somewhat, but I've changed my mind. I don't think I want anything of yours near her. You'll be happy to know that I haven't told her your name; I don't intend to tell you hers. But I won't keep her from looking for you, and I'd be wary if I were you. She's got a staggering amount of rage for such a young child, and she's already commited murder about a year ago."

"Charming."

Severus made to leave the room; he turned at the door to ask, "when was she born?"

Selwyn sighed, closed her eyes and said, "November 10th, 1985. Now get out."

He did.

* * *

He stopped by Gringotts on the way back to Wulfric Manor, to try and get a meeting set up for the reading of the will of the Potter couple; he'd have to wait two weeks, but it was worth it in his opinion. What Aren had told him raised his hackles.

When he got back, Aren was sitting in the living room again, but she wasn't reading. She was biting her lower lip and very obviously checking the clock in the room.

"I am back."

Aren threw herself at him, visibly relieved that he was back, before she inhaled in his cloak and suddenly recoiled. She did not appear to know why she'd had the reaction, and a light frown fixed itself on her face.

"Where did you go?"

"To Gringotts. I had to secure a meeting."

"No, no, I've been to Gringotts. It doesn't smell like that. I… know this smell? Where were you?"

Severus sighed as he took off his cloak. "I was collecting information. On you. I happen to know your birthday, actually, though it wasn't exactly simple." That wasn't the truth. It wasn't a lie either. He took of his outer robes, keeping on only his slacks and his shirt. Apparently that was a mistake, because it seemed the smell was stronger, at least to Aren, and she looked terrified.

"Where were you?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Where were you?"

And suddenly there was a brutal slam on his occlumency shields, and it was all he could do to not let them drop.

"Tell me, where were you?"

"Aren, please stop, you're crushing my head in." Merlin, she wasn't even looking in his eyes. "Aren!"

She stopped as abruptly as she'd started, and he heard a gasp, then a whimper, and finally a whisper. "Oh no, what did I do?"

And she ran away, all the doors closing after her without her touching them. Duister, who always followed everywhere after her, was left pawing at the door and meowing pitifully, and when Severus tried to open the door, it refused to open. It took him a few seconds to get his wand out, but a simple alohomora took care of the problem before he threw himself after Aren, the cat having already passed him.

When he reached his daughter's room —how easy it was to think of her as his daughter when she was distressed—, he swiftly unlocked that door too, before tucking his wand back into its holster. Aren was hidden on the other side of bed, apparently. Duister just sat at the corner of it, looking between him and her, back and forth. That cat was too intelligent for it to be natural.

He took a long time to walk to her, his gestures as small and unthreatening as he could make them considering he was thin but over six foot tall. At this point, he was almost concerned that she wasn't running away anymore but just waiting for what she obviously expected to be a punishment.

"You're safe, Aren. It's alright. Look, I'll sit in front of you," and he sat cross-legged against the wall, just in front of Aren, 'but you'll still have a way to leave," he added, gesturing to the space on Aren's right and his own left. "Now, I want you to know that I am not angry with the magic you just did. It was very obviously accidental, and I know you did not mean to harm me or even to actually get into my head. However, I am disappointed at your insistence regarding where I went. If I tell someone 'no', it means no; I went back on my word once in my life, and I intend that to be the only time. You will be punished for that," he was, unsurprisingly, interrupted by a whimper from the girl, with her head still hidden in her knees, "but it will be nothing physical or degrading. Nothing more, in fact, than you could expect in a Hogwarts detention. Now, I will leave you to calm down; feel free to join me again in the living room when you feel well enough to do so."

He slowly got up, to not scare her further, and made his way to the door.

"I will not hit you, Aren. I will not hurt you, or touch you in any inadequate way, or threaten you with any of it. My role is to protect you, not to destroy you. Please try to remember that."

* * *

 **A/N:** Well damn, I didn't expect to write that much in two day? Also my chapter do tend to end on a negative note these days. Hmmmmm.

Don't expect daily updates! I did it this time because it worked, but really it depends on how much time I have in my day. I might continue writing tomorrow (there's a traiiiin that I have to taaaaaaake and I will have time to kill, but probably not enough for a whole chapter).

Don't hesitate to comment, tell me what you liked or didn't like, if you have ideas about where this is going! Not going to lie, brainstorming, hypothesis and discussing real-life logistics with other people is my jam. I know I'm slow to answer to reviews, most of which is because of how awkward I really am, I really do read them.


	14. Chapter 14

"You smelled like something mean."

The voice startled Severus out of his reading; Aren was standing at the door, one hand clutching the frame of it and the other gripping her shirt.

"I thank you for this glowing assessment of my personality, and I am sorry my smell is indisposing to you."

Aren shook her head left and right.

"I never said it was you. But it's clinging to you. I remember the smell, but I don't know from where. I just- I was scared when you came back. That you would go again and this mean thing that you went to would try to keep you."

Snape sighed and put his periodic down. He could tell when a long discussion was going to happen, and this one did need to happen.

"I went to see your other parent."

"My mother, you mean?" It sounded more like an affirmation than a question.

"I won't elaborate on that."

"... My other parent cannot not be my mother, right?"

"Consider it, Aren: we have potions that allow us to change our sex, without any risk of harm to ourselves or any possible foetus developing if it is taken continuously taken. That's why there is much less discrimination against gay or lesbian couples in the wizarding world: considering that there is one of the two people involved who is ready to take the potion for about nine months in case of a gay couple or for a few days in case of a lesbian couple. Being trans doesn't really apply to us, for that matter: actually changing sex to fit your gender and avoid dysphoria entirely isn't really complicated. It's a bit more tricky for non-binary people, but still doable, with more supervision at the beginning."

"So you're saying my other parent could be a mother, a father, or neither?"

"Exactly. And as I said earlier, I will not tell you what they are, simply because I don't want you to expose yourself by going after them."

"I get you… but you know you'll have to tell me at some point?"

"Yes. Just not yet. Now, do you want to know what I learned or not?"

Aren immediately scramble to climb on the sofa next to him, sitting with her hands on her knees and looking at him like he held all the secrets of life.

"Yes, hm. You were born on the tenth of November, 1985, near London, though your other parent doesn't live there anymore."

"The tenth of November… she- they really didn't waste time dumping me. Mr Matthews told me the staff found me at the door around 2am. I was thrown away two hours at most after my birth."

"I'm sorry, Aren. So sorry. You didn't deserve that. And I also ascertained that they actually meant to eliminate you, to reduce the risk to their life. You got away with your own only because of the handmaiden who was tasked with killing you; she couldn't and just found an orphanage instead."

"You already told me why they would need to kill me, and I understand it intellectually but… Emotionally, I can't get it? I… Why?"

"There is no reason why, Aren. As I told you, you did nothing to deserve that, and even then, you shouldn't have been treated like that. You were barely a few hours. I'm just… So sorry that I wasn't there. So sorry that you had to go through a fate even worse than my own… But I am also glad, because you endured and you are still here, and I could meet you. And you are brilliant, Aren, never doubt that."

Aren's eyes were obviously damp and very close to overflowing, and she was sniffling, but her expression flickered like it couldn't settle on one expression. She blinked rapidly, but didn't outright cry. She settled instead for climbing Severus' lap and snuggling into his sternum, in a posture reminiscent of what he'd done the day she'd hidden into a wardrobe, for Severus to calm her down.

"She tried to snuff you out like a candle, little flower, but you're the brightest flame I've ever seen," he told her. He let his hand softly slide over her hair several times, adding a soft "my little fire lily."

They stayed like this for a while, just revelling in the calm of the evening. Severus was the one to break the silence.

"I have gone to Gringotts to try and find more information about Potter's situation. We will know more next week. I also think we should discuss what you did earlier."

"...I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know," he answered in his softest tone, "and that is why I will start by teaching you to control this. We will not start on anything else until you can use Legilimency as well, if not better than I can myself. Considering the pressure you developed earlier, I think you have quite the predisposition… which doesn't surprise me. But that doesn't mean I won't punish you."

Aren flinched in his arms, immediately turning rigid as a plank. Severus saw fit to disillusion her about what he intended by punishment, before the girl went into another panic attack.

"I will give you lines. Every evening, you will be writing lines for an hour, for the rest of the week."

Aren relaxed, looking sullen but not exactly angry; he knew she understood his reasons for doing this, and she was probably more relaxed now that she knew she wouldn't be hit. "Yes, professor." Frigg, that weirded him out.

"I... " He found himself hesitant. "I think you should call me something else, at least during the summer. Severus, or Father, or Uncle, or even Dad… actually no, Dad feels uncomfortable for me, I'm sorry."

"To me too… can I call you f-father?"

"Of course. I offered, didn't I?" He chuckled.

"Yes, f-father. Sorry. It'll take some getting used to." Her cheeks were flaming red.

"I think, considering the time, you should get to your lines for tonight. After that, I will evaluate your latent ability for occlumency and legilimency. You will not learn anything tonight, I am afraid, but this is necessary for me to teach you efficiently." He gave her a notebook and a fountain pen —no need to make this physically painful with a wizarding quill— and waited for Aren to be set. He charmed the pen for a minute, so that it would write a model sentence for Aren to use.

"You will copy, for the next hour: 'The mind is a private matter that should not be thoughtlessly invaded; I am not to abuse my ability over the psyche of others by using it for my personal interest and/or at the depends of the person I am, in this way, violating. Legilimency is supposed to be used for self-preservation in dire circumstances, or for the protection of others, and in no other cases.' Is that clear?"

"Yes." The girl leaned on her notebook and immediately started to copy, after Severus removed the dictation charm from the pen.

As she was bent over her work, Severus set about testing Aren when she was as unguarded as he would get her. Occlumency could be latent or controlled, even subconsciously, and he needed to sort out which sort she could be, in order to help her as much as possible.

Wizarding folk tended to believe that the magic followed a single road between their core and their wand; that was so many of them were convinced that wandless magic was an unattainable myth, and for them Merlin had indeed used a wand. What any mind-mage worth their salt could tell you was that the core was linked to the outside through a number of 'ports', that were not exactly located in space but increased in number as the magic of an individual grew. When they reached magical maturity —and subsequently went through the integration illness—, new ports stopped forming and the ones already formed determined the proficiency in magic, mind arts and wandless skill.

Legilimency relied on the ability to infiltrate those ports to reach the core, which protected the mind; on the other hand, Occlumency was the ability to close off these ports from intrusion, therefore rendering access to the mind impossible. The less ports, the less exit point you are, and the less 'enemy' ports you could infiltrate, but the less ports were open for infiltration as well, making one a pitiful Legilimens but an excellent Occlumens; Severus belonged to this group.

The reciprocity was also true, and he was discovering that Aren was definitely one of those. The average wizard developed about one or two ports a year until maturity, for a range of thirty to forty ports in adults. Children around the age of eleven usually had between thirteen and eighteen ports, and if a child had less than ten, they were declared squibs and refused for education in magical schools. Above twenty, they were considered gifted.

At not yet nine years old, Aren had more than fifty at first look, most of which seemed to be rather recent and hyperactive. Considering what he knew of blue bloods, he supposed that made sense —since they never actually stopped their magical growth and instead it increased exponentially. Still, it was staggering.

He never did finish his assessment by the end of the hour, getting through only about twenty, twenty-five ports in details. It was such an abstract sensation that it was hard to actually keep a precise count of them past a certain number. Severus thought of it as a sort of 'click' each time he found one, and supposed the high compatibility came from his blood relation to the little girl.

He stopped when Aren looked at the clock, then put her pen down.

"It's been an hour."

"Indeed." He got up, walked to the fire that he'd lit before he had started his reading that evening. He crouched down and sat sideway, cross-legged in front of it, revelling in the warmth now that the evening had turned chilly for a summer night. He patted the rug just in front of him. "Come, sit down with me. I'm not going to chastise you, I am going to teach you."

Aren got up, sat in the spot he had indicated, her eyes wide poorly disguising her curiosity.

"As I said before, we will not be actively learning tonight; I will be assessing you, but for it to work you must have somewhat of a clear concept t it in your head. We'll work on occlumency first." He didn't want to lose the perception of her mind that he already had, as it was necessary to be able to differentiate between passive and active defense. "An Occlumens is a person able to occlude, meaning that they hide their thoughts from external forces. It can be done through diversion which is shoving another thought in the path of someone reading your mind to keep them from accessing the thought they seek, blocking which is a crude shield hiding all of your thought but is also much more efficient, and deceiving which keeps the intruder from knowing you are even occluding. I mostly use the last two myself, depending on the circumstances."

He went through explaining what he would do for the next couple hours, and the basics behind blocking, before Aren closed her eyes and started occluding.

It was a disaster. Severus hoped that it was only because the concept was so new to her, because there was literally no difference between her earlier defenses and the ones she had now. He knew, or at least strongly suspected, that it was because Aren had so many port; there was even the possibility that she would be unable to learn Occlumency at all. He still hoped he would be able to teach her some basic at least, and after all Aren was nothing if not dedicated.

They stopped after almost three hours with the chiming of midnight; that had taken way longer than expected, and he still wasn't done with testing all of Aren's ports, but he supposed at that point it didn't have much of an importance.

He gathered his drowsy daughter in his arms, up to her bedroom, and settled her down in her bed. He transfigured her clothes into something more comfortable, before tucking the comforter around her and silently leaving the room.

He had intended to think on how he would get Aren around the problem, but exhaustion caught up to him, and he fell asleep the moment his head touched his pillow.

* * *

Most of the next day was spent with Severus brewing potions and Aren making headway with her summer assignments. She could be as good as she wanted, she still needed the time to write her thoughts down, and she'd done about two thirds of her work by the time they both stopped for dinner.

Her father was now explaining to her the results of the previous evening, as well as —in simpler terms— the mechanics behind mind arts and ports.

"This very high number of ports you have not only explain why you have such an easy time using wandless magic, but also why your occlumency is… non existent. I don't think there is a way for you to efficiently learn it at this point, so I'll teach you to control your legilimency that much more efficiently."

"Legilimency is getting into someone else's mind, right? Like… what I did yesterday when you came back."

"Yes. And let me make myself clear: it is normally not attempted before graduating from Hogwarts, and you need a license from the Ministry, like for Animagus. I did both without a license, and it would be enough to get me sentenced to a few decades in Azkaban. This must stay a secret." Aren nodded. "What you did yesterday, on pure instinct, shows me that you had immense predispositions for this particular art, which can be expected considering your number of ports. The thing is that now, you must learn to control it, to keep it in, lest you accidentally attack someone that would have no qualms reporting you. Once that is done, we'll go into methods that might protect you from other Legilimens."

And so they started, Duister in Aren's lap to help her stay relaxed, her father slowly guiding her through identifying her ports and trying to clog them in a last ditch attempt at occlumency, before simply focussing on keeping Aren's mind inside of herself. It was an arduous process, and it occasionally produced exactly the opposite result to the one expected; the little girl had seen herself through her father's eyes half a dozen times. Sn- Severus, past the initial annoyance, had confirmed that he had had his shields up and that the mere glimpses she'd caught of herself were supposed to be impossible. He had resisted the Dark Lord, after all, and his own strength laid with occlumency rather than legilimency. He was still a fairly proficient Legilimens, and he was an average wizard in term of power; he largely made up for that with his skill and much larger than average base of knowledge. He simply didn't have the number of ports necessary to conduct a frontal attack on someone's mind the way Aren did, much less something even half as powerful as she had just pulled.

As he explained this to Aren, she was glad to see him animate himself. This was a far cry from his teaching persona; you could tell he loved the mind arts and the concepts behind it, the intellectual gymnastics required…

"It all has to do with the students, really," he explained when she asked. "You are curious and attentive when I explain things to you, you actually think through the concept I give you… you are genuinely interested. It is incredible how disabusing it can be to teach to children who do not want to learn. I tried the first two years, and after that I gave up. At that point it was more efficient to bully them into being attentive than to try and fail in resuscitating their interest… if it ever existed in the first place. But you are right; I would've loved teaching the mind arts even more than potions."

That was better a motivator to be even more focussed than Aren ever needed.

* * *

Time passed in that way for the first few weeks; Severus brewing during the day, with Aren reading everything she could get her hands on — and putting it back real quick when she realised one of the books was erotica, ew, thanks but no thanks — then training in Legilimency in the evening. Albus visited them sometimes in the evening, and once Severus had explained their change in course, he had agreed wholeheartedly; he even offered himself as a guinea pig of sorts once, but the experience left him slightly off-balanced and they didn't repeat the experience. Albus was used to obtaining information, not to being on the receiving end of that and having his brain slammed on by intangible forces.

In mid-July, Aren was summoned in front of the Wizengamot to testify in the case against Mr Bywater for attempted assault on several underage witches and wizards within the halls of Hogwarts. She had no difficulty extracting the memories in front of the court and providing evidence, including of how he persecuted anyone who dared speak against him. The 'child' was sentenced to three months in Azkaban and magical castration —a spell that basically rendered one impotent or frigid, depending on one's equipment— and then to magically swear himself to servitude to the Greengrass family. Aren tried to fight this last option, because Frigg knew that Tori already had enough on her plate at home already, but the court would not relent. At least, since he'd already been expelled from Hogwarts, Tori would be safe there. Hopefully.

By the time August started, Aren had managed to vehemently negotiate with Albus, and although she hadn't gotten where she'd wanted initially —meaning Aren inviting Harry over for the remainder of summer— the result was most certainly better: Harry would be allowed to go to the world cup with Hermione, Ronald and the rest of the Weasley family.

Sometimes, in the evening, she sneaked into her father's bedroom and used a lot of tickling, which Severus was surprisingly weak to, in order to bully stories his friendship with Lily Evans. She hadn't told him yet, but she'd come to think of her as a mother figure, and although she was dead, Aren felt closer to her than she ever had, or probably ever would feel to her biological, unknown parent.

She'd heard of Lily and Severus' first meeting, of Tuney's jealousy, of the Hogwarts letters. Of Lily's naive belief that they would be sent to Azkaban for accidental magic. When he heard of Aren almost being executed for that same reason, albeit at a much grander scale, he thought Lily hadn't been so naive afterall. Wizengamot? It ought be Wizenmaggot, he'd said. He'd also given Aren one of Lily's christmas cards, less personal than birthday cards, and neither the first nor the last she ever sent. Those were too precious, or too painful, or maybe both, for Severus to give them away.

* * *

By the end of August, Aren had re-read through all of her second year book, had started on the third years' and found them much more interesting, she'd read just about all of Severus' library on the mind arts, and had gotten Severus to teach her the basics of the Animagus transformation.

She could either sustain a continued surface reading of people within ten meters of her for hours, almost without effort, or stop reading altogether on command. She'd learned to project thoughts, meaning that she could now be effectively classified as a telepath.

She'd brewed potions with her father a number of time, he'd taken her on several outings under the guise of potion ingredient collection, therefore teaching her to recognise any sort of plant, magical or not, with a simple glance. Severus had told her that he would start teaching her how to discreetly read depth-thoughts and the basics of chanting after the term started.

She'd also heard of the disaster that had been the World Cup, and had immediately written him a letter to make sure he was safe, as well as the rest of their troupe, and to apologise. She'd have bargained better if she had known this option would put Harry at risk. He's written back a perplexed letter letting her know that they were all safe, and that he was really thankful but he hadn't known beforehand that she'd been the one to convince Albus, and that she was looking forward to seeing her again. That evening, Aren had been slightly over-zealous in her enthusiasm, almost sending Severus into a dead faint.

* * *

They came back to the school a week before term started. Severus immediately set about doing the last of his preparations for the coming year, and Aren decided to explore the castle. She played hide and seek with Duister, which proved much more even now that Aren was continuously scanning the surrounding minds; Duister could smell her and hear her very easily, after all.

On the last day of August, Aren and Severus went into the Forbidden Forest for their last little walk that wouldn't have to be disguised as a detention. They gathered only a few ingredients, instead having fun looking for animals thanks to Aren's new perception. They met a peaceful herd of does, no deer to be seen among them; Aren felt a pair of centaurs in the distance but their aggressivity told her it would've been a bad idea to go meet them; and they managed to find an old unicorn, which seemed to delight in Aren's touch but started rearing back and waving her horn around as soon as Severus took a step in its direction. Severus refused to explain why.

Right when they were about to go back to the castle for dinner, they ended up in a rather large clearing, with three enormous cages that contained gigantic f***cking lizards with wings. Why were there dragons at Hogwarts? She heard swearing right behind her, and realised her father was talking.

"Please tell me they bloody well didn't. That competition is an international hazard as it is, but dragons to top it off?"

Competition…?

"That's not for quidditch, is it?"

"No, thankfully. Come, Aren. I have a Headmaster to artfully eviscerate." He caught her hand, softly despite the aggressivity in his tone, and they walked back to the castle. He situated her safely into their quarters, before storming off to Albus Bloody Dumbledore's office.

Aren picked Duister up —she would have held her on the whole way back but the cat was now too big for Aren to carry her with only one hand— and went to sit on the sofa while petting her. They stayed like that for all of ten minutes, before Aren said out loud.

"Ster, I think Grandpapa is about to have a bit of a shock."

Ster wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

"They are fucking dragons, you old fucking demented coot, and my daughter leaves in your fucking castle!" Albus winced. Yes, he was in this for a while.

* * *

"Ster, do you know why they have dragons in the school?"

* * *

"I don't give a damn about the fact that it's ministry-approved!"

"Now, Severus-"

"Don't 'now Severus' me!"

* * *

"It's been half an hour, Ster. I really hope Father hasn't strangled Grandpapa yet. I think I'd better go there."

Ster did not approve of that, but there was no stopping Aren, so they went.

* * *

"You know that I cannot overtly go against the Ministry, Severus. I do not like the perspective of dragons at school any more than you do, but I have no choice." Albus' voice was soft enough, and it seemed things had calmed down a bit when Aren entered the office.

"There better be some measure to protect the younger students, Albus. At least the underage ones. You know there's nothing we can do to keep students from nominating other people. Aren has literally one friend, maybe three if two is not too scrutinizing, and the second one is the biggest trouble-magnet I've ever seen in my life." Ah, maybe not so calm. Severus' voice had taken that low, rumbly quality she's heard him use only a handful of time, and it generally meant 'not good'. Better speak up.

"Father, I think it's pretty obvious Albus is as worried as you are… actually, maybe it's not, but I feel it. He didn't bother occluding that part of his-" she abruptly stopped when Severus literally flinched at the sound of her voice, before his form promptly collapsed on itself into a black mass on the ground. Worried that he'd somehow actually been startled enough to faint, though the thought seemed absurd, she rushed towards him only to see… a pair of very long ears set atop an elegant feline head with high cheekbones, long but stocky legs on a solid body, and a rather short tail for a feline. Its body was integrally black, as were its eyes, save for a white line in the hair surrounding the inner corner and the underside of its eyes.

Severus had turned into a huge cat. Well, an actual member of one of the big cats species, though Aren couldn't recognise which. He did look like a big cat, at least. He let out a sort of 'murrrrp', half way between a purr and a meow. He looked startled and kind of pissed off, as much as a cat could actually look pissed off.

Duister came closer, sniffing at him, her tail high but relaxed. Aren perceived a distinct 'Friend! Cousin! Hi! Big!' coming from the smaller feline, but she couldn't read her father without forcing and she'd learned her lesson; no doing that. She came closer instead, extending a hand slowly, to lightly brush it against the top of his head; the huge cat pressed his head against her hand in a seemingly instinctive reaction, and she kept petting his head, scratching behind his ears, until a huge sounds came out of the animal. At first she thought it was a growl, but it turned out it was just purring, actual purring, though it was much louder with how much bigger the cat was. Aren tried to salvage her father's dignity, but there was really, really no helping it.

"You're… Father, you're adorable!"

Severus replied with a sort of rumbly huff, clearly not liking the idea. Albus chose that moment to intervene.

"Aren, give him some time to calm down. He was really wound up with our conversation, which is probably why he changed in the first place. I dare say he felt safe, though; otherwise he wouldn't have changed at all. It is very private information, and I trust you to not… relay it, of course."

"Yes." She turned to Severus. "How long till he turns back?"

"I'd say about ten minutes? Maybe fifteen?" Aren's head whipped back to Severus. The glee on her face was positively ominous.

"Can I hug you?" A sigh from the big cat, then a nod, before Aren basically threw herself at him. By the time Severus changed back, Aren was positive: best ten minutes of cuddling ever.

* * *

They were going back to their quarters, after Severus had gotten an extensive description of the security measures keeping children under seventeen from applying to whatever event was going to happen. Aren was an hyperactive ball of energy at his side, and he was pretty sure that the skipping was an habit she had caught from Luna Lovegood.

"Say, you've been teaching me the theory, but when can I do that? Can I now? How long?"

"Calm down, Aren. Your jumping is giving me sea-sickness, and isn't that a miracle in the dungeons of an ancient castle."

Aren stopped immediately, looking a little hurt, before a smirk replacing any trace of sadness as she looked that Severus.

"You're grumpy. You're grumpy, all because I learned that deep, deep inside, you're just a big, fluffy, cuddly cat-"

"Caracal."

"What?"

"I'm a caracal. A predator that you can find, among other places, in Botswana, in the southern half of Africa. We're not cats, we're predators."

"Okay, first, you're saying 'we' and not 'I' and that just made it all that much more adorable." Severus frowned, but she continued. "Second, cats are predators, thank you very much. Third, I am so going to look up caracals in the first book on African wildlife. Fourth, don't try to get me off topic." Her face was serious again. "You're grumpy because you cultivate your severe and off-putting persona and you think you need it to survive, and that it's a failure if you're perceived as adorable. I've got some news for you though."

"Hmmm?" He was definitely uncomfortable with where this was going.

"You're my father, and I'm finally used to it, as much as I can be on such short notice; and I'm sorry to tell you that your dignity and your aloofness mean nothing to me. I think I can say that I know you much better than a lot of people, save Albus and Professor McGonagall —she has a sort of motherly soft spot for you, I think— who have known you with less of a mask for years. I don't know you, but I know you enough to know with or without cat- caracal form that you're really, really soft inside and that you're just fighting yourself all the time to feel nothing, but you know what?"

"What?"

"I think you're failing at that, but that isn't a failure in and of itself. It keeps you from dying inside. You know, it was a shock to see how different you were this summer compared to the school year, how much more alive and human you look. It wasn't a good or a bad shock, it was just a shock. Cause I'll tell you a secret." She leaned closer, and Severus bent over to let her speak into his ear. "You're my father, but even without that, I like you both during the school year and during summer."

He brutally straightened back up, completely taken by surprise.

"Oh, and just so you know: I get that we're not supposed to let other people know that you're my father, I understand the reasons and I completely agree with it. But… I don't have to hide that I like you. You don't have to react, in fact it's better if you don't, but I will punch people in the face, if not in the dick when there's one, if they dare badmouth you."

Severus was just… at a loss. He knew he should discourage Aren's brutal tendencies but at the moment, all he could think was that only one other person had even been like that with him, until he'd lost her friendship. To be cherished in anyway was foreign to him.

"You don't have to answer, you know?" Aren said, and he supposed his struggle must have been laid bare on his face. "I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Noooow," she took his hand, "I think I want to eat." And as they started walking again towards their quarters, she resumed her skipping at his side, this time holding his hand. Severus finally managed a smile.

"You know, Miss Lovegood has the most terrible, best influence on you."

"Right?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Just wanted to make sure something was as clear as possible: when Severus sees Aren and thinks of Lily, he's obviously only thinking of their friendship. Aren's his daughter, and Snape has issues but paedophilia and incest are not among those.

To be honest, I don't even think of Severus as having been in love with Lily; I only think of him as having only one (1) friend and clinging to this friend with all he has, until it doesn't work anymore. He is extremely bitter and resentful towards James because he 'stole' his only friend, not because he was in love with Lily. Of course, that's only my interpretation of things :P

This chapter was positively painful to write till I reached the last section. I had to take I don't know how many breaks to get through it, even with the support of my two lil muses. But hey it's done! Next chapter: the begining of Aren Is A Spectator During The Goblet of Fire.


	15. Chapter 15

Aren didn't really give a flying f-duck about the Triwizard Tournament. In fact, she was not actually aware that it was to happen in the school for the year to come. She had stopped listening by the time the staff had started on the announcements.

There was a very simple reason for that. She hadn't realized how much of a strain on her newly developed legilimency the great hall would be. There had been voices and thoughts and boredom and excitement and malignity… And then Luna had entered and Aren had almost had a seizure on the spot.

The tar. All of it, surrounding Luna, and all the feelings in the room thrown at her twice, and she just had to leave. She had thrown a panicked glance at her father, and he'd called her very ostensibly to the head table, just as a weird man with a fake leg and a fake eye and a fake everything —in her state, she couldn't tell where the thought came from — had entered the room, somehow stopping the magical ceiling from going berserk.

"Take this, Aren." He had given her a little vial with a clear green liquid. "It's a pain relief potion, but it will not stop your legilimency, and it will only work for a little time. I have no other option to offer you than this at the moment, but I'll look into it tonight. As soon as the announcements at the beginning of the feast are over, you can go. It should feel better with several thick stone walls between you and… all of them."

She had downed the thing, then gone back to sit in her spot next to Tori, but hadn't listened to much of anything, beyond the basic Triwizard Tournament happening in the school, candidates must be of age. At that point, she'd rested her head on her folded arms on the table. When the food had appeared, Tori had shaken her, and she'd stopped focusing on taking deep breaths and trying to rein her legilimency in. She'd fled the hall.

She had indeed managed to calm down a bit once she'd been in her dorm room, and she had lain on her bed wondering why she hadn't been able to stop herself from going into everyone's mind when it had worked so well over the summer. She'd focused again on taking measured breaths, dread building in her stomach at the thought of having to go to class while that was happening.

She heard scratching against the door, and was mortified to realise that in her panic, she had locked Ster out of the room. She opened and was immediately wrapped in the worry and soft affection of her cat. It was familiar, safe, and incredibly more calm than the great hall but much less cold than the empty room where she'd been trapped with only her thoughts. She hadn't realised how much of a reflex constantly scanning everything and everyone had become until now, and while the great hall was like being run over by a merchandise train thrice over, total silence was suffocating.

She curled around Ster, and the little fluff ball was purring with all she had between her arms, trying to soothe her little girl. Soothed by the cat's purring and the soft waves of her mind, Aren finally managed to fall asleep.

* * *

Severus was good at hiding it, but he was worried sick. He had expected some projecting from the untrained mind of the students —it was common and had nothing to do with the mind art, adolescent thought just tended to be louder. That Aren had been unable to block them out, or rather to stop her mind from seeking them out, meant that first, her legilimency was developing much faster than he'd expected, and second, her control was failing in proportion to that. It didn't bode well for the beginning of classes.

Once the announcement had been done, he'd seen the little girl run out of the hall, pale and looking like she was about to be sick. He'd powered through the usual opening feast commentary, participating as little as he could, eating only to not attract attention, and as soon as the main dishes were replaced with desserts, he left as well.

He made his way to Aren's dorm room —in second year now— and found her asleep. Between her arms was Duister, who raised he head at his approach, and meowed softly at him before rubbing her forehead against the underside of her little mistress' jaw. Aren stirred and opened glassy eyes to focus on him. Or to attempt to at least, because when Severus brushed the hair back from her forehead, he found her forehead burning. The decision was taken even before he realised he had to take one, and he lifted Aren to move her to the room near his office. He'd have taken her to his own quarters, but it wouldn't fit the quarantine cover story he intended to serve everyone.

He tucked her into bed again, Duister resuming her place in Aren's arms as soon as Severus had transfigured her school robes into more comfortable clothing. He was getting very good with that spell; he could make actual pyjamas now. That spoke of how often he had had to use it recently.

He managed to wake the little girl enough to get her to drink a fever-reducing potion, considering it was most likely a fever borne of shock and not of actual malady, then he exited the room to go warn Poppy of the cover story they would need. The rest of the staff would be insufferable otherwise, considering that Aren was the best students in most roughly all of her subjects and was therefore difficult to not notice.

* * *

Aren woke up in a familiar bed, away from the curious eyes of her dorm-mates, Duister snoring peacefully in her arms. She felt groggy and confused, like that one time she had caught the flu, and she tried to get up but she flopped back on her pillow as soon as she managed a sort-of-vertical position. It was still enough to warn Severus and Madam Pomfrey of the fact that she was awake, and the rushed to her side. It made for a strange sight coming from her father. She should tell Luna- Luna.

"Father, father, where's Luna?"

The question evidently startled said father.

"Miss Lovegood? She's in her house, why?"

"Pain, she's in so much pain, constantly, must make it stop. It's like tar and too deep waters and it's slowly swallowing her and suffocating her, please please, I must see her!"

"You're too sick to move, Aren. Or rather, that's the story we gave most people so that you could stay isolated for now, until we find a way to protect you against your own mind. She'll probably pass by during lunch break, though. Would you like me to send her a message to let her know where to find you?"

"Yes, please please please…" That's when the exhaustion started showing with tears rather than words, and Madam Pomfrey subtly threw a sleeping hex at Aren to get her to rest.

She didn't avoid it. _Yes, please, let me stop feeling_.

* * *

She woke up again to Luna's soft singing, the older girl sitting at her bedside. She could think more clearly, now, and the thoughts surrounding her did not feel like they were stabbing her. Away from the crowd, she supposed her defences had managed to build themselves back up during her rest.

Before she could do or say anything, Luna was speaking to her. Aren has a good reason now to think that the airy girl could actually feel it, and many more things.

"I brought you your time table. It's funny, you have a good chunk of it that looks like mine last year… all the classes I had with Slytherins. That's a lot. I guess they don't change the timetables every year. I also brought you some… tarte amandine? The house elves apparently decided to have fun with foreign cuisine, which is nice of them since we'll have students from Beauxbâtons and Durmstrang here starting on October thirtieth, and apparently Slytherin and Ravenclaw had the french cuisine. I haven't asked Ginny yet but I don't think she likes northern dishes much, judging by the face she made."

She gave Aren a small plate filled with what looked like a sort of pie. You couldn't see much of the fruits, because most of it was covered in a crispy-looking thing, and only the edges of what Aren thought to be pieces of either apple or pear peeked out of the paste. Aren took a bite of it, and it was actually quite soft; the paste was apparently based on almond, the taste of it quite distinct, and the fruits were slices of pear.

Aren liked it a lot, but she was still too tense to eat more than one or two bites, so she put the plate back down, and Duister immediately reclaimed her spot in the tiny girl's lap she'd been removed from a couple minutes earlier, in favour of the pie. The little girl pet her, finding some calm in the slow rumbling of the cat and the calm thoughts emanating from the animal. She observed Luna for a while, who was busy imitating Duister's purr right into her face; she was curious to see that, like herself, Luna was much more calm away from the masses of people. When she delved further in the Ravenclaw's mind, there was no longer a mass of tar surrounding her. There was only Aren, and a sort of white fog surrounding her on the bed. She retreated before intruding on Luna's mind any further.

"How do you do it?"

Luna didn't look up from looking at Duister, who was sniffing at her face curiously. "The purring? I make bubbles in my throat. It sounds quite close, doesn't it?"

"Yes- No, I mean- Yes, it sounds quite close but that's not what I meant. How do you manage everyone's thoughts?"

"Oh! That. I don't feel their thoughts."

"You don't? But- I saw the tar. And I felt your pain!"

"The tar surrounds me but doesn't harm me. The pain… I'm not in pain, Aren. I don't know what it was that you felt, but it was not my pain."

"Alright…"

"I guess Professor Moody felt it too because he kept covering his eye throughout dinner. You know? The funny one."

"Uh, maybe. Or maybe his eye was painful? Maybe I felt him?"

"Possible. I don't like him much: he's sticky. Icky. Like a spider trying to catch flies on its sticky web."

"Sticky? Is that what the tar feels like?"

"Oh! No. Not usually. It's more like walking in cold water, except it's black and opaque. And that's only negative feeling. Positive feelings are more like a soft light from the centre of the chest, just- oh, but if you saw the tar, then you must have seen the light? They're more rare, but there are some."

"No I… I was so overwhelmed, Luna, how do you do it? It felt like they all were screaming around me. I don't even do it on purpose, it's just… I learned how to read minds during the summer, and fa- Professor Snape taught me how to turn it off. It worked well with him, but yesterday I just couldn't. It felt like retreating from one mind made me jump into five other."

"I think I see what you mean. At the very beginning, the tar hurt me too. My mother told me that as a baby, and as a young child, I used to cry a lot, and also to suffocate without reason. They got a mind arts master to scan me, and that's how they found about the tar."

"What did they do?"

"We all moved. I was too young to remember much, but we went to a much calmer area. Our closest neighbours were the Weasleys, actually. I knew Ginny before coming to Hogwarts. Without as many people, I stopped suffocating. I still cried sometimes when Mom or Dad were sad or angry. People make fun of them- well, of my Dad, really. But they don't realise that they became like that for my sake. Dreamy and eccentric and happy. They wanted me safe and they took it into their hands to make it happen. Our home was only light."

"They sound amazing." Aren felt slightly jealous for a second, but then remembered that she had Severus, now.

"They both are. Mom is the one who helped me make the tar stop hurting. She told me that we made everything light in the house because we love each other; and that maybe, if we also loved everyone else, they would stop hurting too. Hurting me, but also hurting themselves."

"Is that how you manage to still see the good in people even though you can see and feel all the bad in them like clothes they are wearing?"

"Yes. And I told you, it feels like cold water now. I imagine a sort of bubble between me and the tar, and I can still feel the cold, but it doesn't actually touch me; just the bubble."

"Could you teach me to do that? Make a bubble?"

Luna finally looked up from Duister, who'd started grooming her own fur once Luna had started speaking, and giggled softly.

"You already know how to do that, silly."

"What? No!" She'd have known, right?

"Yes you do. How do you think you kept the magic from drowning us all when you came to Hogwarts last year?"

"Oh. Luna oh by Frigg's grace, I just realised, I'm sorry-"

"You believe in Frigg too?"

"What? No, no, I probably picked it up from Father. No but, I was so scared and tired and cautious when I arrived, and then angry at the people who kept calling me names, and Bywater, how could you even stand to be in the same room as me? How could you become my friend?"

Luna giggled again.

"You know, before you got your tattoos, all I ever got from you was emptiness. I'm not saying that there was nothing there, just that I couldn't feel it." She looked at the remaining tarte amandine. "Can I take that?"

Startled at the change in subject, Aren silently agreed. She definitely did not feel hungry anyway.

"I couldn't feel anything, simply because you were so focussed on keeping things in that you didn't let anything out. That's the same sort of bubble you should make now. Actually, it's still on, because I only see a light fog around you, not actual tar or light. I know there's an emotion, I just don't know which."

"I… just that? That's all?" Aren couldn't believe her ears.

"That's all. It doesn't even have to be as strong as before, you just have to internally admit that your mind is in the bubble and should not go out. Technically, you already have the bubble. Instead of it just keeping the magic in, make it include your mind."

As it turned out, the exercise was both much more complex than one would think when hearing that, but also much easier than Aren had initially expected as far as solutions went. Both girls spent the next twenty minutes doing some sort of back and forth in Luna's head, with the older girl first showing the youngest what the bubble felt like, then lowering it and pulling it back up, so Aren would know the sensation from inside. It was very similar to an actual bubble, which surprised the little slytherin, but made it much easier to identify its presence —or lack thereof.

Aren at first refused to invade her mind, the idea that it was a form of violation all to ingrained at this point. It was only when Luna confirmed that she was giving her knowing and enthusiastic consent that Aren finally relented. With her history, both first and second hand, consent was one of the big things she valued most.

Once Aren knew what to do, She went back to her own mind, and Luna 'thought at her' different sentences, in a voice remarkably deeper than her usually voice; it sounded much older, and quite a bit wiser too. The objective was for Aren to no longer hear her. Every time Aren was frustrated, Luna invited her back into her own mind, to show her again what she did. It was a struggle, and they had to stop and start again from scratch a couple times, but by the time Luna had to leave for her next class, her inner voice sounded much more faint to Aren.

Exhausted, but definitely more optimistic regarding her continued school life, Aren picked up a third year book —it happened to be transfiguration— to read. She didn't get much farther than a couple new pages, before the mental exhaustion caught up to her and she fell asleep, sat in her bed against her headboard.

* * *

In the next three day, they kept making progress using that very same method. As a test of her abilities, Severus visited her between classes; first on his own then with Albus, Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick and Hagrid, the later of whom had severe difficulties getting into the room, though not for lack of motivation.

When Aren could keep herself in her bubble all on her own without issues, with several of them in the room and for a couple hours without interruption, they decided she was ready to try going back to class —or really starting classes for the year, actually. Considering Septembre 1st had been a Thursday, this made her coming back a Monday, which was very practical in her opinion. She hated feeling like Monday on a Thursday.

The Great Hall was still a mess of noise, and vague perceptions of emotions were filtering through the bubble, but it was mild and could mostly be ignored. Luna had warned her: she could shield all she wanted against her own ability, she could not stop passive reading. The older girl met the same problem: she could block the tar out of herself, but couldn't stop seeing it.

Aren had still been glad to know that she was unable to influence people from the inside. Legilimency was a tool of mental communication, and no matter how painful the memory extraction could be, there was no way to change those memories, or thoughts, without the other person's knowing consent. She would have hated always second-guessing everyone's actions and reactions to her any more than she already did.

Regardless, Aren took her breakfast as fast as she could, before rushing out of the hall to go to her first class, herbology. She got there a good twenty minutes before the beginning of the class, but took this chance to look around the second year greenhouse more peacefully than when other students were there. The Ravenclaws were a rather calm and introspective bunch —though not all of them, let's not buy into the stereotypes— but they did tend to over-share sometimes.

She was looking closer at some plants that were bristling in a corner of the green-house when Professor Sprout entered, gaily humming a song slightly off-key, a big smile on her face. She stopped short when she spotted Aren, visibly pondering how to react. They hadn't interacted much outside of strictly professor-student relation, as she was not in the motherly woman's house, since that terrible first impression in the room Albus had gathered them in for her sorting. Granted, she'd come for Aren to test her bubble, but the point had been to precisely limit interaction of any form between them to the best of Aren's ability. The little girl, much more comfortable now that she was in familiar terrain, so to speak, decided to take the first step. With a big, ear-to-ear smile, chirping a small "Hi!" at the professor.

"Aren! Dear, I didn't hear you come in. You're a bit early, aren't you? How are you feeling?"

"Better, Professor. I still felt a murmur of it this morning, so I prefer not lingering, to avoid testing the bubble too much since it's new. Is it ok if I just look at the plant?"

"Of course dearie. You can also ask any question you have, of course. It is my role to teach you. Do you like almond, by any chance?"

"I've never had any on its own so I don't know. I like the aftertaste in some cakes though. Why?"

"Because I have small marzipan sweets and that I definitely can share." Seeing Aren squinting, she precipitately added. "We can even share the same one, if you want to be sure it's safe to eat." She obviously hadn't forgotten the distrust and fear Aren had shown on that first meeting. Aren was moderately mortified; she disliked people knowing she was weak, and she considered her behaviour on that day to be very, very demonstratively weak.

"You could have taken an antidote before hand." Professor Sprout's face immediately fell- "I trust you though. You don't have to cut it in two, there's no problem." -to morph back into a brilliant smile at her words. Aren didn't want to admit it to herself, but she found the sight deeply satisfying. She accepted the marzipan sweet, before turning to a the plants she had been looking at, pointing at them. "What are those, professor?"

"Oh! They are bubotubers. See those little yellow spots all over its surface? They hold a liquid which is usually assimilated to pus, but is really just sap. It is very efficient against acne and scarring, among other things, but has to be very diluted. I had pure sap on my skin once, and my hand sprouted three tentacles the length of a finger. With only a drop!"

"Whoa. Will we study them this year?"

"Oh no dearie, not yet. Handling them requires skills that are taught in third year, so you're definitely not ready for that… yet." Aren looked at her questioningly, very surprised at the conspiratorial tone the teacher was using. "Don't look at me like that, sweetheart. It's not a secret that you're regularly borrowing Miss Lovegood's books, and I have no doubt that you are already done with the theory of second year herbology. You just need the practical side of it, and even that I don't expect to be hard for you." She lifted a hand but stopped her gesture halfway, looking expectantly at Aren. When she didn't react, the professor raised her hand further to pat softly at the little snake's cheek. She then turned to another cluster of plants. "These, on the other hand? They're what we're studying today. Considering your theoretical knowledge, what do you think they are?"

Aren squinted for a while. The leaves were wide but not large, on single stems instead of in clumps, and no tendrils were visible. The leaves had a globally green hue, except for the very edge of them, which turned to a very deep red that could be seen as black under poor lighting. There were no visible fruit or flower visible at all, which suggested it was a tubercule. Squirming tubercles were rare enough as it was, but with the dual coloration of the leaves, it had to be…

"Mandrakes?"

"Right in one! I know you'd get it, dearie. Yes, we will be studying them for the first two months. They do require quite a bit of overseeing, and we will be dividing all classes in two halves: theory first, and then its direct application for the second half of the period."

"Aren't mandrakes supposed to be deadly? Their scream, I mean?"

"That they are! Not yet, though. You see, first off they have to be dug out to actually start crying; and even then, they have to be at the very least six months old before it can turn mortal. And even then, it's actually quite rare, usually they all mature around nine or ten months."

"Oh. So they're inoffensive for now? Ah, wait, no. I think the book talked about fainting?"

"Right again! It's a delight speaking with you, little leaf. Their cry will indeed make you faint if they are not mature, and in a couple seconds only. That's why you will need ear muffs for today's practical part of the lessons, and for most of the ones to come in the next two months. Actually…" She looked at the box containing all the ear muffs. "You're so much smaller than everyone else- oh no dearie, don't take it as a slight!" she giggled at Aren's scowl. She was not pouting, nope. "I just want you to be safe, little leaf. If the ear muffs slide off, you're good for three more days in the infirmary, and neither of us want that. I'll get you a smaller one."

* * *

With all the students focussed on the class then on their plants, it wasn't hard to block them all out. It was all about leaves and screams and dirt and not getting cut with your own tool. There were a couple distracted minds, of course, that didn't get filtered as easily as the rest. One of the Ravenclaws was having very vivid fantasies about Ginny's friend, Harry Potter. Very, very vivid. Aren hadn't seen Potter naked, but she was pretty sure those proportions were wrong, and she couldn't picture him as a whiny submissive cliche; but who knew, it was his own business after all. She felt bad for him, though, because she'd definitely feel terribly objectified and dehumanised if anyone had fantasies of this sort about her.

All in all, the class itself was a bit disappointing after the exchange she'd had with the professor. After learning in a rush from books and on her own, classes felt perpetually slow, which probably explained why she was ahead of most of her class. She kept learning from books the way she had before, as a child who had maybe two or three hours a day to learn, and generally from borrowed books in the middle of the night.

She happily waved at the professor as the period ended, and she skipped to her next class, which happened to be potions. For all the special treatment Slytherins were supposed to get from Severus, most of them seemed to be decidedly reluctant and were dragging their feet; Aren tried to cheer Tori up a bit, without success.

They reached the door to the class roughly at the same time as the Gryffindor that were supposed to go to class with them. Whose idea it was to stick the Slytherins and Gryffindors together for all potion classes, Aren didn't know; but it was a stupid one. Just as Severus opened the door to let them in, she could see the lines of tension on his face, that she had not seen all through summer. She was sad to see him back in his teaching persona, for what she knew it had to cost him.

The students all filtered into the room, a neat divide forming itself between the students of the two houses, as always. Aren was glad Tori was still agreeing to be paired with her, as she was diligent enough that the younger girl never had to do everything on her own. It would not be as relevant today, however, as was evidenced by the setup of the benches. Each table of two had two brewing stations, as opposed to the one per pair that students were used to see. Aren had to stop herself from twisting and jumping in place. Solo brewing! She had worked by her father's side a few times during summer, but only on simple pastes and potions for the infirmary that she already knew how to brew. This meant discovering a potion all on her own, maybe experimenting —safely, as Severus always insisted— with the recipe, and that had only happened three times the previous year, including that first class when she'd been first singled out from the rest.

She set about making her sleeping draught, choosing instead of adding flobberworm mucus to the brew, to grind poppy seeds and to add the oil she got from it. She was about to do just that when she was brought out of her focus by a sharp voice.

"Exactly what do you think you are doing, Miss Dumbledore?"

Her head snapped up, her eyes finding her father's immediately.

"I replaced the flobberworm mucus with poppy oil, or at least I was about to."

"And why did you think you could do that?"

"Because poppy naturally induce lethargy and can cause coma in excess, but in sufficiently reduced amount, it can have the same effect as flobberworm mucus. Considering the unit price of flobberworm compared to poppy, I supposed it would be interesting."

"Hm. Please proceed." Severus then resumed his lurking between the rows of students, leaving her to finally add the oil to her brew just before it was ready to curl, thus salvaging it.

The rest of the brewing process took her almost all the end of the period, and when the professor called for samples ten minutes before they were supposed to leave, only her, Tori, Anckleduck and a Gryffindor, whose name she didn't know, were done. Severus singled her out again.

"Miss Dumbledore, since you saw fit to modify the recipe, your sleeping draught will be tested in comparison to a reference of mine. Bring me an additional sample."

She did so, confident in the result of her brewing and in her skills. You didn't live with a potion master for two months and a half before picking up something, and Severus was a very patient and enthusiastic teacher when he didn't have thirty students at once, twenty-seven of which wanted to be anywhere but where the teaching was taking place. She watched as he made two different mice swallow one a drop of her potion, and the other a drop of the reference. Both collapsed immediately, their moving ribcage the only clue that they hadn't been killed by poisoning.

"Well done as always. Have you already removed the rest of the potion from your cauldron?"

"Yes, father." She immediately slapped her hand to her mouth. Without her guardian's name in the sentence, and her simple glee at the praise, she had forgotten where they were and had called him father in front of the whole class, loud enough to be heard by all the other student. Severus didn't realise immediately, probably lost in speculations about the optimal use of poppy oil in sleeping draught.

"Hmmm." Was his only answer, and all hell broke loose when Romilda Vane erupted in the middle of the class.

" _Hah! Dumbledog has a daddy kink!_ "

* * *

 **A/N** : #EndVane1994 (this looks very weird when it doesn't start with 2k-). Aren doesn't have a kink. Aren will probably have no kink simply because I have none that I know of and therefore don't know shit about writing that, much like I don't know how to write a romance. Aroace ftw.

Before anyone starts screaming, chapter 16 is already out!


	16. Chapter 16

"Hah! Dumbledog has a daddy kink!"

This got Severus' attention, despite his focus on the solution Aren had found to optimise the sleeping draught. He knew of that solution already, but wouldn't have expected a second year to think of it, even if he ignored the fact that most of them were dunderheads anyway.

"Miss Vane, you are to keep your ludicrous ideas to yourself. Five points from Gryffindor for such obscene comment during class. How you chose to explore your sexuality is your concern only, and I suggest you extend that courtesy to your classmates."

There was a wave of murmur in the classroom, but the student did not answer immediately. Severus himself was feeling perplexed: people don't usually expect thirteen-years-old children to shout kink-related slander in the middle of a class, much less about an eight-years old and in front of the professor. He made sure he would discuss the event with Minerva, because while it was harmless enough that the child had more knowledge and was curious, it meant she needed to be talked with, about matters of safety, earlier than other children. And that she needed to be taught respect of personal boundaries, verbal or physical, immediately. A daddy kink. Hah! If she knew the truth, she'd be even more disgusted, probably.

While the children were cleaning their work stations after brewing, a task that had to be done without magic to avoid contamination of the next preparation, he heard Vane loudly whisper something with her neighbours, Miss Donovan and Mister Trout, probably in an attempt to be heard by Aren and not himself.

"-see how he took her defense immediately? Snakes really get the preferential treatment."

"What if there's more to it, though?" Trout prompted.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Dumbledore definitely gets more attention than any of us. And it did start right off with the first lesson…"

"Oh!" Donovan's expression was a bit too loud, but Severus did not react, hoping they were not going to figure it all out. Better be discreet about it and catch them later to swear them to silence about Aren being his daughter. "Do you mean… Oh, hell. You think he's really doing her?"

That, Severus had trouble staying silent about.

"Let's be serious for a moment-" interrupted Vane. Severus couldn't believe his ears. Was she about to defend him? "He has to be. Look at him! That's probably his only chance, of course he's doing her. And there's no way she could be this good at potions at her age. Or anything really. Plus, remember all those private lessons he gave her? Too much magic my ass, she was probably blowing him or something."

"Hooooo," simpered Donovan, "d'you reckon she's having the same sort of deal with every teacher?"

"Not old McGonagall, I think. The teacher's too noble to do that, but she probably pities the thing. I'm pretty sure she has loads of fun with Flitwick, though. Perfect size and all… Or maybe she likes it big? Can't be getting much of that with Snape, right?"

Severus was seeing red. It took all of his self-control and most of his occlumency to hold himself like he had heard nothing, but he had discreetly walked to the trio's table, throwing a soft glance at his daughter in an attempt to reassure her, then turning to the three boils on the face of his classroom. He took care to speak in his deepest, most threatening voice.

"Miss Vane, Miss Donovan, Mr Trout. Did you know that statutory rape was a crime? Regardless of my preferences, I assure you that I have no interest in spending the rest of my life in Azkaban. Since you seem so curious, however, I will let you know that celibacy can be a choice; one that you have obviously not chosen to take, considering your increasingly obvious inclinations."

The three students —he did not want to name them children— visibly and almost audibly swallowed, discomfort extremely visible on their faces. It did not make Severus relent, however.

"Since you seem to find the slandering of your teacher's reputation without ground to be a joyous occupation, I am quite sure you will feel comfortable with spending the next month in detention. With me. Every evening… No. I do not want to saddle myself with you three that much, you are all enough to lower the intellectual quotient of the whole room. Not that it was high to begin with, but it is still a thing to take in consideration. You will spend monday, wednesday and friday evening here, wiping cauldrons. I do not trust you with ingredients. The rest will be done with Argus Filch… and the punishment will be as he sees fit."

The three little monsters had gone beyond pale.

"And I will inform the headmaster."

Donovan looked ready to cry, Trout was blankly staring at his table, and Vane looked murderous.

"All of you! Out, now!"

He threw a glance at Aren, and was sad to see her on the verge of tears, but she still smiled at him before going through the door. The next days were bound to be painful for his daughter.

* * *

They were. Oh, Frigg, they were. Vane did a very good job at spreading her ideas, with the help of her two little sycophants, and by the end of the week a good half of first year through fourth were even beyond calling her Dumbledog —he still had to fix the tattoo design— and went straight to calling her Little Bitch instead. The seventh year did not care much about the drama, since they had N.E.W.T.s to worry about, but the fifth and sixth year had join the rest by the end of septembre. Seeing as the Beauxbâtons and Durmstrang students were bound to arrive on the third, Severus had gone to talk with Albus, who had chosen to address the issue during dinner the last friday before their arrival.

Aren knew this, and she was not looking forward to it. Luna, knowing too, had decided to let the Slytherin send themselves to hell and had sat at her side in the Great Hall. When Aren heard the sound of a spoon hitting one of the crystal glasses, she looked down at her plate, wanting to be anywhere but where she was. There were flashes, in her head, of Matthews and Spurgeon's and his hands on the children, all of them, and she'd feel like tearing Vane's guts if she wasn't so completely terrified.

"It has been brought to my attention," started Albus, "that worrying rumours have been spreading in the school as of late. First, for those of you who might be genuinely worried: during the founding of the school, one of the prospective teachers tried to do exactly what those rumors describe, force herself on a student. The founders discovered it easily enough, and to avoid such occurrence again, a spell was weaved within the very stones of Hogwarts. This spell causes anyone, and I mean anyone, that is above legal age and has any feeling, or intent, or both towards a student, of age or not, to collapse. They are completely paralysed, save for their lungs and heart, until another member of the staff finds them and subjects them to trial. This means that none of the staff or off age visitors can harm you in such a way. The school is designed to be a safe place for you all, and that means we would never try to expose you all to even the possibility of something like this."

He took a breath, letting the silence stretch, and when everyone thought he was done, he picked up where he had left off.

"However, those rumors themselves are unjustified, slanderous to both the student involved and all the staff, and we will not allow this to continue. Just as we respect you and keep you safe, you respect us and protect your fellow students. The next time any of the staff hears of this, there will be a temporary exclusion; if there is a recurrence, it will be a permanent one. I hope I have made myself clear." There was none of the grandfatherly warmth on his face at that moment, and then in the next, it switched back to his twinkly-eyed, soft countenance. "On that note, I believe it is time we ate."

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that it was Aren this was about. She could feel it, hear it in all of their heads, before she broke off from it and retreated in her bubble. Luna held her right hand in hers, and Tori held her left. Her two hands busy, Luna tried to feed her something, but Aren felt too sick to eat. When everyone was busy focussing on their food, she squeezed both of the hands holding hers, before letting go and feeling the Great Hall to her room.

* * *

No one expected to see her much in the Slytherin dorms these days. Some because she hadn't been there much to begin with, and they had gotten used to it by the end of the previous school year; others because despite Albus' well-meaning intervention, it was too little too late, and they believed she earned her grades through unconscionable methods. Aren could have proved them wrong on sheer power alone, but she was tired of fighting the whole school for a reputation that, in the end, she cared little for.

But this time, instead of going to 'her' room or to her father's quarters, she trekked to one of the least used towers of the castle. It was most of the student body's misconception that the owlery was al there was there. People followed the stairs up, and arrived in the circular room with what could be compared to shelves upon shelves of nests for the school owls and the student's personal birds. What most of them missed was a little door, tucked in a corner just behind one of the 'shelves', that led to another set of stairs going up and up and up. It was a remarkably efficient way of exercising, partly because it just so happened that magic was inefficient the whole way up, unless one took a first step off the stairs. The other part of it was that Aren was a literal mule when she chose to be, and so she just climbed for the heck of it at first —she wanted to see where it led, and it better be something, Frigg-dammit. Oh. She really was picking up on Severus' expressions. She'd have to be careful about that, too, she supposed.

In the end, at the top of the tower, she had found a surprisingly warm, circular room, all decked in warm and deep greens. There wasn't any real furniture proper, but instead a large number of cushions of all sizes at the foot of the wall, and blankets, and one of the walls was left completely open. Aren had already tried to peek above the floor limit, but it was impossible to extend any limb out beyond the original circumference of the room. It still gave a beautiful view of the grounds around the castle, and after that first time, Aren had kept coming back regardless of the long climbing required to get there. She wrapped herself in the blankets, made a small nest of the cushions near the opening, and gazed at the landscape far below.

She watched the sun go down on the forbidden forest, and the let her finger softly glide through Ster's to the rhythm of her fur. She stayed there for hours, warm in her nest high on the tower, until the sky was completely dark and the lights in the Great Hall went off.

Then, with her wand dispensing a soft light, she started writing a letter.

* * *

The students were gathered in the southern courtyard of the castle, facing the Black Lake and the free expanse of the grounds. Aren, with her diminutive size, had been tucked at the front of the group, half hidden in Albus' robes, Severus on his other side. Her father was being very obviously —to her— over-protective. He made sure to seem as unaffected as he could, but the arrival of so many unknowns at the castle obviously put him on edge, and he had been more snappish in class as of late. His outburst what she dubbed The Father Incident™ in her head had been but a precursor, and both that and his worry at the coming events had made him near-insufferable to non-Slytherin students.

She had decided, now that she had more practice, to make the bubble a little more thin, if only to reassure her father. It meant she was constantly surrounded with mind-whispers, but it was at a tolerable level, and it made her more aware to potential threat. Severus was near-paranoid, especially regarding the Durmstrang headmaster, and he had warned her that the man was a former Death-Eater, not in the way Severus himself was, but only because he had sold all of his former comrades for his own survival.

Sadly, this meant Aren was left exposed to all the acidic thoughts of the student body.

Look at her being put on a pedestal again—

The little bitch is sticking to daddy again—

What a slut—

They got the collar off, poor attempt at concealing—

I wonder if they share her— take turns—

Maybe I can get her too—

That last one forced a whimper out of her, and she clung harder to Albus' robes. She felt her father's impulse of placing his hand at the top of her head, to reassure her if he could, but he smothered it immediately. With so many people around, it would only add fuel to the fire, and they could not risk that when the delegations from Beauxbâtons and Durmstrang were about to arrive. They'd already spent most of that last sunday applying a new design of tattoo on her back, instead of her neck, which meant that at least now the collar was gone. One less reason to call her Dumbledog, she supposed, except they all were past that and calling her Bitch now, anyway.

The new tattoo was comprised of a flower, a fire lily, surrounded by leaves and roots forming a sort of small crown around it. It would grow as the tattoo aged, Severus had told her, until it reached the base of the nape of her neck. Then, they would know they had to wipe it and renew it completely. Depending the speed at which it grew, which indicated how much magic had to be filtered to him, Severus would then adapt it to let Aren grow naturally and safely into her own magic.

Regardless, the school had stopped openly calling her that awful name, but it did not stop the whispers away from the staff, or the thoughts. Very few people actually gave her any credits. They probably could fit on her hand… Luna. Tori. Ginny. Maybe Harry? He had not thought that way like most of the others, he just called her Dumbledore in his head the few time he thought about her at all. Mostly because of all this mess. Hermione might be another, but it was hard to tell with all the thinking about academics the girl did.

"—stupid… it's a flying house!" said a small….ish Gryffindor. He was not so far off the mark. A huge carriage, dragged by ten, eleven… twelve gigantic winged horses. It brutally landed in front of the students, narrowly missing Trelawney's head. The whole of the student body took a hasty step back or three, until the whole carriage came to a thundering stop, one of the horses nervously giving a loud stomp on the ground.

A gangly boy decked in pastel blue opened the door of the carriage, hopping off the edge on the ground, before tinkering under the floor he'd been standing on to tug stairs out. Golden steps. Fancy much? Thought Aren. She'd have fed Fey, Lucy and Philip for a three months with the gold of just one of those steps. She wasn't salty. Nope. Not at all.

The boy took three hurried steps back, leaving the doorway free for others to exit. It was good he did, because the next person to come out was huge. As in, huuuuuge. Aren guessed she was taller than Professor Hagrid, although she was also more slender in her structure. She wore her hair in a strict bun at the nape of her neck, and was covered in a very fluffy and soft-looking coat of fur, that Aren hoped was artificial. Otherwise, that meant a lot of dead rabbits. She was also wearing high-heels, which she judged to be absurd given the woman's height, but to each their own. Aren felt positively dwarfed, and retreated further into Albus' side. She was no coward, but she didn't like exposing herself to unknown threats for no reasons.

"My dear Madame Maxime," Albus started in a jovial tone. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," answered Madame Maxime, and Aren winced at the deformed name, " I 'ope I find you well?" Behind her, more students were exiting the carriage, until about ten of them were waiting behind their headmaster.

"In excellent form, I thank you," her guardian answered. His hand found Aren's head, that very same way her father had wanted to, minutes earlier. Madame Maxime's stare settled on her for a few seconds before getting back to Albus.

"I did not know that 'ogwarts took on so little students." She was squinting at Aren, who squirmed in place.

"Aren has some particular circumstances. I trust you had a good trip?"

"A bit cold, but good enough, thank you." She turned to the boys and girls that had gotten off the carriage and now stood shivering in the cold, visibly desperate to find a good fire. "My pupils," she waved a hand at them. Most of them actually looked half-frozen, save for a tall girl who Aren thought looked quite a bit like herself, but fuller and with darker hair. She also had a face that looked more… feminine, was perhaps the word. Voluptuous lips, heavy eyes, neat eyebrows and a straight, well-balanced nose. The sort of face you could see in makeup adverts in the muggle world. At her side was a younger version of the same girl, probably not out of puberty yet but definitely the little sister of the first one. Neither were shivering in the slightest and actually looked like they were comfortable.

The smaller one looked at Aren, then stood on her tiptoes, grabbing at her sister's shoulder to tug her down, then whispering in her ear in what appeared to be very fast french. It was amusing to see that while Aren could feel general intent and hear the murmurs of the Beauxbâtons students, their minds were so inherently french that she couldn't grasp more than an impression.

Aren was distracted from the conversation between Albus and Madam Maxime by a bubbling at the surface of the lake, and when the french delegation walked into the castle, a sort of whirlpool formed at the center of the Black Lake. Out of the whirlpool, the mast of a boat slowly emerged, followed by the deck of a deck, from the top of which flowed water that had been covering the boat before it showed up. Aren softly tugged at Albus' robes, and the old man leaned enough that she could whisper at him.

"They're a bit of a dramatic bunch, aren't they?"

Albus shuckled.

"They are. They rely a lot on dramatic effects and intimidation. The location of the school might be undisclosed, but it is well known that it is somewhere in the north, and there, they prefer deterring assailants before wasting resources in a useless fight."

"Hmmmmm… That makes sense, I supposed."

The short discussion had still been long enough for the ship to anchor itself, then a shimmering bridge formed itself between the bridge of the ship and the bank. Once it was solid wood and cords, Aren whispered to herself: "Magic is awesome." Albus squeezed her shoulder approvingly.

Finally, another ten-or-so students were standing on the bank in front of the whole group of Hogwarts students. Standing closer than them was a tall but thin man, with sleek silver hair and yellow teeth,, and fur the colour of his hair on his shoulder. Aren thought he looked a bit like a nasty sort of rodent, but she might've been influenced by Severus' warning.

"Dumbledore!" he boomed. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Albus answered.

Aren found a sort of syrupy, sticky texture to his voice, and Aren would say it had a distinct feeling of yellow-green to it. He got closer, to the little girl's disgust, and shook her guardian's hand. He had a wide smile on, but she could feel it was fake. His mind was occluded, but it was still evident by the fact that his eyes stayed cold and had and almost metallic glint.

Karkaroff turned to the castle itself, enthusiastically talking to himself.

"Dear old Hogwarts, how good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… You don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

Aren did not know who the guy was, but by the number of furs on his back and the way every students was looking at him, it was evident the guy had some sort of preferential treatment. She still felt like she was missing something. As they all filed back into the castle, she didn't care about it. Especially, she thought, if it's the kind of bullshit that makes girls squeal about getting their hats signed in lipstick, as she passed a group of girls fighting over just that.

Preposterous.

* * *

The Durmstrang students were a noisy, messy bunch, with steel faces and few words for anyone but their own group. Aren was pretty sure that had seen at least one of the guy take a punch to the face during the meal, and they only had calmed down when the Goblet of Fire had been revealed and the selection process had been started.

She had felt unsettled by the fact that Karkaroff had elected to sit between Severus and Albus, and she longed to go up to the table to stare at the strange man until he left, as unefficient as she knew that to be.

She had flipped the finger at the Krum guy —she'd learned his name thanks to the annoying throng of students coming up to him to get shit signed… she was getting really pissed of— when he'd said in an accented, but grammatically correct English:

"I did not know babies were allowed in Hogvarts. Vy are you sitting vith the Slytherins?"

"Because I'm one, dipshit. Second years. My size means nothing."

"It means nothing until I smash you into the ground, little baby."

"You can sure try. You'll fail." Yep. Really annoyed. Frigg, please let this meal end quickly!

One of the older Slytherin Aren had never bothered learning the name of had apparently heard their conversation, because she'd interrupted loudly.

"You know, Viktor, she's right on at least one account. She's not a little girl if she's old enough to sell her body to teachers for good grades. Who knows, she probably could enroll in the tournament that very same way, and get—"

"I don't know who the fuck you are, but may I remind you of what I did to Pansy?"

The older girl had paled drastically, but instead of the disgust and wariness Aren was used to, she had started frowning.

"I also remember that you ran away screaming like you were the victim and that you spent a long time alone with Snape after that. I think it proves my point."

"I think you fried one too many brain cells on thinking about shit like that, because much of that time was spent in the presence of other professors—"

Aren had realised her mistake too late. She had remembered the thoughts of someone, earlier, about the teachers sharing her —she still shuddered and felt sick at the mere memory— and that she had just, unwillingly, given her 'proof' of what many of them had apparently already been thinking.

The girl had obviously noticed it too, by the carnivorous smile stretching her lips. In the end, she had let go of the confrontation to excitedly whisper with her table neighbour. Aren had a sick feeling that she knew exactly what that had been about.

The Durmstrang boy, however, had not seemed to be done, and had had his mouth open to ask another question, when she'd flipped him the finger before getting up. She'd seen Tori engrossed in a conversation with a Durmstrang girl and, not wanting to disturb the other girl, she'd made her way to get out of the Great Hall.

That was where she had slammed into a warm mass, a stomach it seemed, that belonged to a tall blonde girl— the one from earlier. The one that hadn't been cold earlier by the lake, and who had stared at her with her sister. Aren's mouth opened on it's own.

"Teach me French."

That most evidently did not impress the french witch.

"... Please?"

The little sister started twittering in french, very fast, until the taller one closed her eyes, releasing Aren from her stare, and gave a sigh.

"Alright. I will teech you French. My name is Fleur, and this is Victoire," said Fleur, gesturing to her sister, "Which respectively mean flower and victory."

Aren beamed at her. "Neat!"

"I will teach you, but not yet. First, I must eat. Do you know a good place to learn?"

The answer was obvious. "Yes, and it is well shielded from the rest of the school. It will be calm, and you won't have that," Aren waved at a pack of boy basically drooling at Fleur, "following you. Why are they looking at you like that, by the way?"

"It is the allure. I am a… _Comment dit-on Vélane en anglais, Victoire_?" She asked her sister.

"Veela."

"I am a Veela," she completed for Aren's benefit, "which means that I am very, very interesting to the boys— to boys. As you see, I have progress to make in English as well. Maybe we can make this an exchange?"

"We can, of course, but my English is either vulgar or overly flowery, so I'm not sure I'm the best for that. There's no middle ground with me."

This time it was Victoire who tugged at Fleur's sleeve.

"Middle ground?"

" _Juste-milieu, ou compromis_."

"Oh." She turned to Aren, "that will be really, really fun then!"

Aren smiled back, before she got out of the way that she'd been blocking since earlier, telling them "Enjoy dinner!"

" _Bon appétit_ ," corrected Fleur with a smirk.

" _Bon a-petit_ ," amended Aren as well as she could, before she finally ran out.

* * *

About an hour after dinner, she was going to go to the study hall to prepare for the classes the next day; but when she got there, she was mortified to see that most of the benches and tables had been pushed to the sides of the room, leaving a large expanse of floor without any furniture. In its center stood a single cup on a stony pedestal, too high for her to reach —though she really didn't want to anyway— and a blue flame leisurely burning above it. That seemed weird to Aren. Shouldn't the fire be in the cup? Oh well, magic, right… fuck no, I want to know why.

The cup was surrounded by a circle of about twelve feet in diameter, a simple chalk circle that was completely closed. Every time a student from whichever school came close to put their name in the cup, the line somehow wobbled as if it was being dragged by the student's foot, before snapping back in place, and then the cup burned bright red when it swallowed the little papers with names on them. When she looked closer, she could see that the line was emitting a strange sort of blue light, kind of like looking at an aurora borealis but upside down. When she tried to touch it with her hand, the light came solid, keeping her outside of the line, no matter how strong she pushed. It actually looked like she had put her hand on extremely clean glass that gave no reflexion, and the heat of her hand was creating a mist, or an aura condensation on the glass. She removed her hand, and the strange white-ish halo disappeared. Then she pulled her hand back, and with some momentum, she slammed her hand into the barrier.

Bad idea.

It was a good thing she'd waited until the room was empty but for her, and that she was so good at sneaking and being unremarkable when she put her mind to it, because it hurt like a bitch. A sort of jolt started in her knuckles, then circled her wrist before traveling up her nerves and veins into her back and piercing, and she could only scream.

It was over extremely fast, however, and she was left contemplating a blue light like the one of the barrier fading from the tattoo on her wrist. She suspected her back was shining in the same way, and as soon as she had her breathing under control, she scurried off to 'her' room. There, she took off her school robes and the tunic underneath, and twisted this way and that to get to see her back in the mirror. It was both better and worse than she had expected.

The glowing was almost completely gone, though she could still see it when she noxed the room, but the roots had significantly grown until it circled most of her ribcage. It extended almost to her coxis, and the roots reached up to about mid-shoulder blades. She'd put more magic in that hit than she'd thought, and it worried her that she'd have so little control on her power again.

She put her cloak back on, and ran to her father.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, there is french * _evil cackle of doom*_ because I am French (the worst sort, from Paris _*more evil cackling*_ ) and could not pass the opportunity.

 _Comment dit-on Vélane en anglais, Victoire_? — How do you say Veela in english, Victoire?

 _Juste-milieu, ou compromis_. — Middle-ground, or compromise.

 _Bon appétit_. — Enjoy your meal.

 _Bon a-petit_. — A mispronounced ' _Bon appétit_ ', because Aren has literally no basis of French and therefore cannot (yet) make a distinction between e, eu, é, è, ê, ai and ei. funnily enough, can be read as "Good has-small." because those are all individual words but make 0 sense.


	17. Chapter 17

It was needless to say that Severus was bloody worried too. The difference was that unlike Aren, he already knew that while the tattoo had kept Aren from literally making the room she'd been in explode, it had transferred to him a tremendous amount of magic in a short time, which meant that her magical core was growing faster than any of them had expected. It was hard to estimate considering their lack of a reference though, because as he had told Aren, Albus most definitely wasn't a Blue Blood. They would have to look for an older Blue Blood, preferably one that hadn't become corrupted by power, which reduced the number of candidates by a least three quarters.

In the meantime, they had quickly renewed Aren's markings with an ink at a higher concentration of active ingredients. Class had taken up the next day as they had before, and all seemed to be relatively well, all things considered. The largest disturbance seemed to be the throng of boys of all ages and all schools, but those of Beauxbâtons, following the Delacour girls everywhere. It made the girls hard to ignore considering they were never alone. It also seemed to profoundly annoy them. They disappeared once for about an hour every on the late afternoon or early evening, and he'd learned from Aren that they were teaching her French in a place that wasn't exactly secret or hidden, but that few people —none, she thought— knew of.

* * *

There it was. The oh-so-awaited moment, thought Aren sarcastically. All years, houses and schools were gathered in the Great Hall after dinner, on the last day of October, just a day after the delegations had arrived. The plates had been cleaned, the students were silent, and the cup was burning bright and blue in the spot where Albus' pedestal for announcement usually stood. Albus was standing just next to it, and in the silence of the hall, he did not have to raise his voice to be heard from everywhere in the room.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," he said. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber," he waved his hand towards a door that had been suspiciously absent until a few minutes before, "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

The other two directors, standing at his side by the goblet, were tense, and Karkaroff kept eyeing every corner of the hall like he was expecting a monster to come out of one of them. Aren had already spotted him rubbing his left forearm a couple times during dinner, and he kept doing it. Madame Maxime hid her nervousness extremely well, but the the little girl could feeling it flowing of the woman in thick wave. It had a taste of expectancy to it, too. Aren felt divided: she hoped Fleur would be chosen because she definitely deserved the honour —the french witch had shown her a few things in their place above the owlery, now officially dubbed the Bird's Nest— but she also didn't want her friend to risk her life. She wanted to go sit with Fleur and Luna, to keep her anxiety down, but she wasn't allowed to wander off tonight.

Bagman was busy beaming at the student, and Crouch was looking so bored he could have fallen asleep on the spot. They were apparently supposed to be the two supplementary judges, in case there was a debate on the scores of a trial; for neutrality. Neutrality my ass, she thought, they're Englishmen, you can't expect them to be neutral. Just as she thought that, Albus waved his wand at the ceiling, and all the lights save a few went down. The cup's flame looked blinding in this darkness. They waited a few more seconds, maybe half a minute, and then suddenly, the red of the flames, from when candidates put their names in the cup, was back. They surged up, almost aggressive, reaching halfway to the magicked ceiling, and then when they went down to retreat to the goblet, a little piece of paper was left fluttering in mid-air, slowly falling to the ground. Albus snatched it before it landed, and announced:

"The champion for Durmstrang will be… Viktor Krum."

She supposed that explained the preferential treatment the boy benefited from. If Durmstrang knew he was the best suited to participate, it was to be expected. Didn't make it any less ridiculous. Karkaroff strongly slammed his hand in Krum's back in a —theoretically— congratulatory gesture, said something that Aren could not hear from where she was, because of the applause.

The cup flared again, and another piece of paper was caught, and—

"The champion for Beauxbâtons is… Fleur Delacour!"

Aren's stomach twisted and clenched in worry just as her heart soared for the girl she had come to genuinely appreciate. She had a caring side to her, that she rarely showed to anyone outside of the Bird's Nest but reminded Aren of Fey. She hoped Fleur would be safe… If only from the rest of her school, because the other Beauxbâtons students were glaring daggers at her.

Another flare, another paper…

"The Hogwarts champion is… Cedric Diggory!"

There was an explosion of noise in the hall, and it took all Aren had to not duck under the table out of sheer reflex. People were clapping, shouting, whistling, and stamping their feet on the ground for Diggory, a Hufflepuff that Aren had rarely seen in the hallways and had not known the name of before now.

Albus had to spell himself with a sonorus to be heard again above the noise, and it died down only when he finally managed to do so. He was beaming, obviously proud of the universal support Diggory was getting.

"Excellent! Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"

But where it should have turned cold by then, the goblet flared up again, and there was complete, absolute silence in the room as Albus caught a fourth piece of parchment, his face pale as if he knew what the paper would have written on it. His eyes glanced it, and his face was set and hard when he looked up but Aren could see the worry there, the genuine concern. He cleared his throat, then opened his mouth again.

"Harry Potter."

* * *

Oh no— The poor guy. Oh shit. The few times she had managed to talk to him, he'd seemed a calm, introspective boy with a tendency to over-care about others that didn't necessarily return the favour, and to prefer calm chatting with friends over risking his neck. Considering how famous he already was, and that Diggory had already chosen as a Hogwarts champion, Potter would have the whole school out for his blood as soon as he got back from that office.

The students were sent back to their dorms, the even now officially over, and Aren decided to invade her father's quarters for the night.

He was absent when she got to his quarters, and she supposed he might be asked to help in such exceptional circumstances. The cup had gone cold as soon as Potter's name had been thrown out, so there was no getting anything out of it beyond the magical contract binding it to all participants. Severus's skills in both potion brewing and the mind-arts department would definitively useful, if only to test that all participants were cognisant and not pumped full of mind-altering substances, muggle or otherwise.

She did not have to wait on the sofa for long. About fifteen minutes later, Severus slammed the door to his quarters open, muttering for a few seconds about twinkly bastards, security measures not being enough, bloody useless deadly tournament, bloody goblet, bloody crouch, and above all Harry bloody fucking Potter and his need to be the perpetual centre of attention!

"Father! Father, please tell me they're not forcing Potter to compete, please, he never wanted to!"

Seeing the anxious state of Aren, Severus calmed himself enough to be in-threatening to her and told her: "he should have thought of that before he managed to put his name in the goblet, Aren. The contracts are binding and there nothing, no one that can get him out of competing without killing him."

"But he didn't, that's the problem. Everyone blanked so hard when his name came out, that I could hear his mind as if he'd been shouting. He was terrified and shocked and surprised because he didn't know his name was in the cup. I can't read him right now unless I actually force it, but he really, really never wanted to participate."

"Which means that he either was the victim of a prank, which is unlikely given the particular skills required to mess with an artifact like the cup, or someone is trying to kill him again and is using strangely convoluted methods to do it. Great. Is one year of calm too much to ask for?"

All of his anger and nervousness had immediately been replaced by quiet resignation. Apparently that was a recurrent issues. Aren knew about what Potter had theoretically done as an infant, but…

"You mean it's like that every year?"

Severus gave her a deadpan look.

"In first year, he found out the defense professor is possessed. By the Dark Lord. He burns the man's face off, the specter flees, but Potter spends several days in the hospital wing. In second year, there is a damn basilisk in the school and he goes fight it off to save the youngest Weasley. He gets bitten and is saved in-extremis by Albus' fire chicken—"

"Don't badmouth Fawkes."

"Fine, Albus' phoenix crying on the bite site. At least this time he doesn't have to camp in the infirmary. Third year? A criminal escapes Azkaban and is after him, and he almost dies because of the hundreds of dementors sent by the Ministry to catch the guy."

"Okay, ouch." She thinks for a few seconds, "I suppose there is no way to void the contract? He is a fourth party in this shit, the contract should be void completely, right?"

"It's not possible. See, all participants are listed in the same contract. You can't revoke one without revoking them all, and since the other three's claim to the competition is legitimate, it cannot be broken. Potter is trapped because the original crafter of the goblet did not want to risk one of the participants getting cold feet at the wrong moment."

"... I hate legal stuff. He's fourteen. He shouldn't have to. He's beneath the age limit!"

"Ah, but that's the thing. The goblet was never designed for such a limit. If only the initial conditions were applied, you'd have been able to enter too, and you're not yet nine."

"That's messed up."

"It is. We never changed the rules on the cup itself, so we interfered the only way we could, by selecting who could put their name in the cup at all. That age line was doing just that; the one you tried to bust."

"Oh shit. Do you think I'm the one who messed it up?"

"No. Albus checked its integrity before taking the goblet to the Great Hall. The one who messed with things was above seventeen at least, which makes sense since, as I said before, the skills required to disturb the goblet's initial framework are not easily acquired."

"Oh…"

"We've thought about it as much as we could in such a short time frame, but I think we won't be coming up with any explanation for the time being. Actually, I believe someone should be getting to sleep." He was smirking down at her.

The mood of the room immediately shifted. Aren pouted up at Severus.

"You really think I'm going to be able to go to sleep after that mess? And it's not even that late anyway, it's only- Oh. It's almost ten."

"And you are not nine yet, young girl, so you'll be going to sleep now."

Aren grumbled a bit for the form, but agreed nonetheless. She picked Duister up, and left the quarters to go to 'her' own room. Now that she took the time to think about it, she was feeling a bit drained.

"Good night, father…"

"Good night, Aren, rest well."

* * *

It was depressing, how fast Potter's friend had dropped him like a hot potato. There had been a huge fight between Ginny's brother and him, and the whole of Gryffindor house had supported the first of the two, to Ginny's consternation. Hermione had fled the fight, too timid to withstand it, but she had stuck with Potter at least, once the fighting had stopped and settled into cold ignorance.

Badges had started circulating the school, switching between 'Potter Stinks' and 'Support Cedric Diggory - The Real Hogwarts Champion', and even the Hufflepuffs were wearing them. On one side, Aren could understand them: they had been deprived of their one chance to stand alone in the spotlight; on the other hand, that a house which took pride in loyalty and acceptance and support could turn to this was extremely disturbing. Some of the badges were even stuck on 'Potter stinks'.

* * *

Aren's birthday came and went, and she was nine. Severus, in his typical Severusey fashion, did not throw a party per say; but he took special care in preparing a meal for that evening, only things he knew she liked, and they ate in his quarters. He poked a little at Aren's love of cheese, and said it was Fleur's influence. At the end of the meal, he gave her two gifts wrapped in brown, simple paper. One was a wand holster of the finest quality, in dragon hide and with adjusting enchantments for it to adapt as she grew. The second was a necklace, a very thin, white metallic chain, with salmon pink shimmers. From it hung two little charms, one a single stick —'Your first wand'— and the other a drop, though if she touched it it turned into a sort of seal with a wand circled by a crown —'The Prince family seal'.

"It is tradition in pureblood families to offer such a chain to a child when they get their first wand and acceptance to a magical school. As they grow and accomplish things, they gift their children with more charms to symbolise their pride in those steps in life. These two symbolise your first steps in the Wizarding world, and your being welcome in the Prince family."

"Do you have one?"

"Yes." He picked a chain from beneath his robes, and Aren remembered briefly glimpsing it during his episode at the infirmary. On it hanged a single charm, the wand with the crown, that didn't change form when he dropped it.

"That's all you have?"

"Yes. My mother was proud, but my father was brutal and I was not allowed to have a chain in the first place. I found this one in my mother's things when she died. You should have had yours as your turned eleven, but you took your first steps a little bit earlier than most people, didn't you?"

* * *

Harry spent quite a bit of time with Luna and her, now. Two weeks after the selection of the champions, and he was still being avoided by almost everyone. He avoided everyone back anyway, Aren thought. This had given Aren a bit more of an insight into Harry's life. He'd had it both better and worse than her, she realised.

Aren had had a much more traumatic life until Hogwarts, for evident reasons; while Harry had been mostly ignored or insulted, and slaved off to a lesser degree than Aren had been. But where Aren had had the chance to find her father, Harry would never know his parents, because both of them were very officially, tangibly dead. Since she knew Severus and Lily had been friends as children, she'd ask him if he knew where they were burried or where their ashes had been laid; that would be faster than looking in history books, and she'd done that already looking for a photograph of Lily anyway. She supposed he'd want to know, because one thing she'd understood pretty easily was that Harry knew next to nothing about his parents. He might as well have grown up in an orphanage like her, and he told Aren and Luna once that he had seen his parents' face for the first time when he was almost twelve, in a wizarding photo album that Hagrid had gifted him.

"Can I see your album?"

"Sure, why?"

"I, um… I've heard of her. Lily. I just…"

"Hm?"

"I want to put a face on the name? I've looked in books but she's nowhere. They all speak about James Potter but there's not much about Lily."

Harry thought for a second.

"Wait a minute."

He rushed out of the study room, and about ten minutes later he was back with a red-leather bound book. He sat next to Aren, Luna sitting on his other side with a smile and a knowing glint to her eyes. Aren lightly poked her with her mind, and Luna focussed on a shape she saw in the mist to let Aren see it too. It looked like a sort of ball happily rolling and jumping around Harry, like an excited puppy. Harry was positively gleeful to be able to talk about his parents without the fame and Mouldywarts coming into the conversation like a fly landing in broth.

"I think that's the autumn before they had me. They married the next summer, I think, but I don't know the precise date. They'd just gotten engaged that day."

The photo he was pointing out showed a tall man with black hair and hazel eyes, wearing a pair of spectacles much like Harry's own; with him was a petite and skinny woman, her blinding smile almost but not quite hiding the piercing green of her eyes. They were both wearing thick coats and long, warm scarves, and a couple dead leaves could be seen falling around them. They danced next to a fountain, the wind and their happy jerking about making the woman's brilliant red hair flow this and that way. She was happy her father had called her a fire lily— she knew what she'd sign the letters she'd been secretly writing.

* * *

"Father, do you have photos of Lily when she was small? About my age or during her first years at Hogwarts?"

"Sure. Do you mean the muggle or the wizarding kind?"

"One of each, if you could copy them? Twice."

Severus gave her a suspicious look.

"It's for me, I kind of want one. She sounds like a good role model…"

He did not really believe her, but it wasn't like a dead person's photograph could have any real use in a ritual anyway, so he saw no harm in it. Aren got four photographs: two copies of a muggle photo from when they were eight, and two copies of a wizarding photo from Hogwarts, when Lily was about thirteen.

He did not question it when the next time he saw the photographs, Aren only had one of each left.

* * *

Considering Aren's sponge-tendencies in regards to knowledge and her functioning by associating concepts and senses in an order he hadn't understood yet, it was not surprising that Aren was absorbing the language rather fast. One evening, Severus found the oldest of the two sisters and Aren chatting on a bench near the Great Hall, in French, about a week before the First Task.

" _J'ai eu classe de transfiguration. J'aime bien cette sujet, parce que tu fais des images dans ta tête et tu change les choses._ "

"Almost. Your first sentence is grammatically correct, but a bit wonky. We would say _j'ai eu cours de transfiguration_. And I know gendering irks you —though you still have to tell me why— but it's _un sujet_ not _une sujet_ , so you say _j'aime bien ce sujet_. The rest of your sentence is also wonky but correct, hmmmm, how would you replace that…"

"How about _J'aime bien ce sujet, parce que je_ change _des choses dans ce que je vois dans ma tête_ , in that case?"

"Almost perfect! Just, you would say _en ce que je vois_. And, sorry. _Change_ and change are written the same and have the same meaning, but they're not said the same. You say _change_ with the same vowel as _un an_ and the g is a j sound, like in… _un jeu_."

"Oh! Yes. I think I lumped all in, inside and into in one word and it all became _dans_ , sort of. And you say… _Tchange_?"

" _Change_."

" _Change_ ," Aren repeated.

" _Tu fais tellement de progrès, Aren. C'est excellent, et tu retiens le vocabulaire très rapidement_!"

" _Merci. Tu explique bien. Tu as un autre livre que tu peux me prêter? Du_ fantasy _, j'aime bien les choses avec des chevaliers et de la magie et_ …"

He had walked past them, but he still felt so proud of the little girl. At this rate, she would be totally fluent by the end of the year.

* * *

On the afternoon of the twenty-fourth of Novembre, Aren did not pay attention when Diggory transfigure a dog to distract his dragon; she watched worriedly as Fleur used a mix of charm and her natural allure to put her dragon —a welsh green— to sleep but was caught in a flame the beast let out in a sleepy snort. There was advantage here in being a veela: Fleur was relatively resistant to fire and simply had to extinguish the fire before fetching a golden egg in the dragon's nest. She completely ignored Krum's turn, choosing to discuss dragons with Luna instead, till Harry had to go face his own dragon. The poor boy had managed to pick the worst dragon in terms of risk, and the hungarian horntail —according to Luna, that's what the mother dragon was— managed to escape its chains to follow Harry out of the arena. Shit. She was relieved to see him come back, his broom leaving a trail of smoke in the air and no dragon following him; he grabbed the egg, and it was done.

Aren hoped the dragon was alright.

* * *

When Aren next went to the Bird's Nest, it was to find that part of the roof had been torn through, leaving a large gaping hole between the wooden beams supporting the structure. It was lucky said beams had not been damages; the whole thing would have collapsed otherwise. And I had intended to spend the time of the first task here… A shudder shook Aren. Aren-sized dragon bites. For some reason, the thought made her laugh until she collapsed to the ground, out of breath.

* * *

Aren was watching Fleur pace in the repaired Bird's nest two days later.

"A Yule Ball. There will be a Yule ball. We were told to bring dress robes, but I thought that might be for the prize ceremony at the end. A Yule ball? I'm a Veela, it'll be a nightmare to find a partner."

"Can't you just skip?" Asked Aren.

"If only. The champions must open the ball with a first dance in the middle of the crowd. _Putain de bordel de merde!_ I'll have a _troupeau d'idiots_ following me everywhere for weeks, and we still have to train for the danse, and no one under fourth year is allowed in unless invited… Neither Gabby nor you can come, can you?"

"I could ask Luna. Wait, no, she's a third year anyway. Or Harry. But well, any fourth year asking a nine-years old girl to such an event would look like a fool. I'm fucking done with the nasty rumours."

Fleur pensively hummed before adding "did that Vain girl even get punished?"

"Vane, not Vain. Yes, but it was too late. I knew children could be vicious, but I thought adolescents were supposed to be passed the 'I can't tell right from wrong' phase."

" _Tu plaisante_? They're worse, just in a different way. I don't think it's even about the sex thing; it's more about making feel you like a stain under their feet. I don't think they really believe it all, they just want to make sure you're as ostracised as you can be. That's where they get their thrill."

"Couldn't they have found anything else? It was bad enough at the first orphanage and I was six! What's a daddy kink even?"

"Oh Aren, dearie, I'm not too sure about it either. I think it has to do with fantasising about your father, or fantasising that your partner is a father figure to you. As I said… Really, really not sure. I'd say don't take my word for it, but also I'm pretty sure you're way too young to put your nose in the sort of books that could teach you about that."

"Is that why they think I want to fuck or am fucking Se— Snape? What kind of bullshit is that?"

"Discrimination. You're different. You're calm most of the time, you read a lot and don't speak much unless you feel really comfortable, you're first of your year even though you're about three years younger than the rest of your class, you hang around with Luna, you're _Dumbleudorr's_ ward, you hang around teachers often enough… they perceive it as you being a sort of _préférée_ to the staff, so they want to make you feel bad for it, and dirty, because they think this way they'll feel less mediocre. They won't of course, but they don't know that until they've tried, and once they know they'll just find another target."

"It sucks. Humans suck. I'm fucking nine, I don't get half of this and the rest disgusts me."

"I know, Aren. It'll die down, I promise."

"I hope so. As soon as possible."

"Yes."

Aren spent five more minutes feeling miserable before Fleur interrupted her.

"Come on! _Time for Français! Dis moi sur quoi on a travaillé la dernière fois._ "

 _"La conjugaison. Le vocabulaire de la table."_

"Hm. You had no trouble with conjugation but vocab was more difficult. Tell me what you remember?"

They spent the next forty five minutes reviewing vocabulary, then going some more into sentence structure. Aren was progressing fast, but the language held so many exceptions that most of her sentences were awkward as can be.

" _Qu'est devenu le dragon de Harry_?"

" _Elle est tombé dans un gouffre sous le chateau._ "

" _Gouffre_?"

"A… chasm."

"She fell into a chasm and no one thought anything was wrong?"

" _Français_ , Aren."

" _Personne ne s'est dit que c'était bizarre qu'elle tombe dans un… gouffre_?"

" _Non. La plupart des gens ne se soucient pas de ce qu'il peut arriver à quelqu'un ou quelque chose, si ce n'est pas un humain._ "

" _Même toi_?"

" _Non. Je suis une vélane. Je suis celle dont les gens se foutent._ "

" _Se foutent_? Does that mean the one they are wary of? Like… _se méfient_?"

"No. It means they don't care. Textually, they don't give a shit. Don't tell people I've been teaching you this sort of vocabulary." She winked.

"Nope. It's more fun that way." Aren beamed at the french girl, before she turned pensive. "Say, Fleur… Can I tell you a secret?"

"A secret?" Fleur's interest was immediately piqued. "Oooooh, did you do something bad. Have you found a secret entrance to the restricted section of the library, perhaps?"

"No, no. I don't need that. I have access to Albus' personal library, which is better, you know? But no, it's… actually way more serious, but it's not exactly something I did."

"You're teasing me, Aren. Out with it, you little _chaton_."

"You promise not to freak out? I mean, you're a veela, so you're less likely to freak out, but you could steal freak out and I'm actually a bit scared."

"I can't promise before I know, but I promise that if I freak out, I will take the time later to think on it calmly and then take a decision. Is that good?"

"Yes," Aren sighed, "it's actually better. More honest."

Fleur looked expectantly at her, but she didn't feel pressed in any way, so she took her time before actually speaking.

"I'm a blue blood. The illegitimate child of two latent bearers of the gene, and when the one who carried me gave birth to me, it was evident I was different, and they couldn't pass me off as the child of their partner, so they threw me in an orphanage and told said partner I was stillborn."

"A— A blue blood. Damn. Oh, Aren. _Merde_. It's both better and worse. They'll consider you human, I'm sure of that, but they'll also see you as a prize, something to bargain over. Who knows, Aren— and how did you even find out?"

"A lucky thing really. Snape is the one who understood what I was. I had an… accident. Involving Malfoy, from Slytherin, I think you know him. So he tested me, and I was a Blue Blood, and so Snape invented a potion that lets me transfer my magic to my closest living relative. So basically, Albus knows, and Poppy, and Snape, and the relative whom I am not allowed to name for safety reasons."

"That relative you found, was it your carrier or your other parent?"

"The other one."

"And how did they react?"

"They did not even know I existed. They were devastated, I think, to know that I had been in the orphanage all this time. They truly love me in the way a parent should, I think. It's so different from what I had before, sometimes I'm lost, but it's not bad. I know if I am lost, I can ask them."

Fleur suddenly took her in a hug, almost crushing her against her chest.

"I won't tell anyone, Aren. You're safe, it's ok. And I am so training you in duelling, _chaton_."

* * *

 **A/N:** Ayyyy, Aren gets a new ally in this chapter! There's a lot of french in this chapter, so:

 _J'ai eu classe de transfiguration. J'aime bien cette sujet, parce que tu fais des images dans ta tête et tu change les choses. =_ I had transfiguration class. I like this subject, because you make images in your head and you change things. [Grammatically terrible]

 _J'ai eu cours de transfiguration =_ I had transfiguration class

 _J'aime bien ce sujet, parce que je_ change _des choses dans ce que je vois dans ma tête =_ I like this subject, because I change things inside what I have in my head

 _en ce que je vois_ = into what I have in my head

 _Tu fais tellement de progrès, Aren. C'est excellent, et tu retiens le vocabulaire très rapidement_!= You are making so much progress, Aren. It's brilliant, and you learn the vocabulary very fast.

 _Merci. Tu explique bien. Tu as un autre livre que tu peux me prêter? Du_ fantasy _, j'aime bien les choses avec des chevaliers et de la magie et_ … = Thank you. You explain well. Do you have another book you can lend me? Some fantasy, I like things with knights and magic and...

 _Putain de bordel de merde_ = Holy fucking shit [text: shitty nasty whore but well. That's not the meaning it has.]

 _troupeau d'idiots_ = a pack of fools/idiots

 _Tu plaisante_ = are you kidding?

 _préférée_ = favourite

 _Time for Français! Dis moi sur quoi on a travaillé la dernière fois._ = Time for French! Tell me what we worked on last time.

 _La conjugaison. Le vocabulaire de la table._ = Conjugation. Tableware vocabulary.

 _Qu'est devenu le dragon de Harry_? = What happened to Harry's dragon?

 _Elle est tombé dans un gouffre sous le chateau_. = She fell into a chasm under the castle.

 _Français_ , Aren. = French, Aren.

 _Personne ne s'est dit que c'était bizarre qu'elle tombe dans un… gouffre_? = No one thought anything about her falling into a... chasm?

 _Non. La plupart des gens ne se soucient pas de ce qu'il peut arriver à quelqu'un ou quelque chose, si ce n'est pas un humain_. = No. Most people don't care about what happen to someone or something that isn't human.

 _Même toi_? = Even you?

 _Non. Je suis une vélane. Je suis celle dont les gens se foutent_. = No. I'm a veela. I'm the one people give no shit about.

 _se méfient_? = are wary of?

 _chaton_ = kitten

 **A/N 2:** There's another thing I'd like to address, before it gets bad: I was pretty slow writing this time for two different reasons.

The first is that I received this: "don't you think you went a little to far with the sex crap? I get that you have a thing about r*** but i think you character is only 9 or something and you got the hole dam school thinking snape and Dumbledor, and the rest of the staff, are doing it with her. Is this a french thing? This obsession with sex?" This put quite a damper on my writing, because simply most of what happens to Aren is taken from my own experience (save for the one time Matthews actually attacked her, I thankfully never had to deal with that first hand). I'm what is called a "gifted child" and was sent to a specialised school, but I was ostracised for not talking to other children, for sticking close to the teachers because I was fucking scared of adolescents, and hid in the library to read as much as I could. On that front, the only difference between Aren and I is that I didn't get good grades. This led to other kids saying that I was either paying the teachers to let me stay in school, or saying that I blew the teachers under their desks, and they were 15 at most. I was 11. So sure, I was a bit older, but not that much, and Aren will reach that point where she will stop giving a shit, like I did. She's obviously not there yet. You'll notice that Aren hasn't actually _done_ those things. That's the point of rumours.

I am not angry with this anon, because honestly had it not happened to me I would probably have had that same reaction. I'm not sure. But it's still a bit depressing to know that such experiences could be so easily dismissed as "the sex crap", even if that's probably because it's in fiction.

The second thing iiiis that I'm working on a time line, a physical one with little labels and all, not just my notes, and it incorporates most of the fanfic itself as well as the events from canon. It's fun as all heck (and terribly maddening sometimes), but it's very slow. Since I was stuck with my writing, and I can't stand not being productive, I decided to work on that. I'll put a link up as soon as it's done, since I'm still catching up with the story at the moment! Once that's done, I'll simply update the thing as I go.

That's all, see you all next time :D


	18. Chapter 18

_Hello Lily,_

 _The first task is over. People are starting to flock around Harry again, but it's obvious that he doesn't like it. He's just glad to have Ron back, and Hermione, though she never actually stopped talking to him. She was just… stuck in the middle, I suppose. On the other hand, with the Yule Ball approaching he is constantly followed by a pack of rabbit girl and a couple of boys hopping to be asked to go with him..._

 _The First task was completely over the top. The champions had to go fetch a golden egg in the nest of a female dragon, whose first instinct would be to protect her clutch. Harry still managed about the best bit of flying ever, and he tied for first place with the bulgarian champion, but his dragon escaped and followed him all around the school. I think she's the one who made a hole in the roof of the Bird's Nest._

 _Harry showed us the egg, and everytime he tries to open it (it has hinges), it starts screeching like all the nails on all the blackboards in the world. All Luna said was 'it sounds wet'. Maybe you'd get it? I'm stuck._

 _French is going well. It's only been two months, but with daily lessons and Fleur constantly correcting me and pushing me to speak french during the day, she says I'm progressing very fast. I thought at first that Luna was only there because of me, but it turns out she's just… quietly absorbing everything. She's good too. The cool thing is, we'll be able to have way more private conversations if we speak in French! When the Beauxbâtons students are gone, I mean. Though I'll definitely miss Fleur and Victoire._

 _Fleur wanted to give her dragon figurine to Victoire, but Vicky happens to be scared of dragons, so she ended up giving the little lizard to me instead. It's fabulous, I love it so much! It is very playful, loves scratches, and makes a wonderful little messenger, sort of like an intra-school owl. I'm just sad can't bring it to class like Duister; the teachers tolerate her, but I think they'd draw the line there._

 _Harry told me that Hagrid has a thing for dragons, so I'll have to go see him at some point. I can't keep calling the dragon 'it' all the time, it feels insulting; though that might be French's useless obsession with gendering everything that's bleeding over. I've started dreaming in French, but I think most of it is rubbish. Maybe there's a way to know if it's a papa or a mama dragon?_

 _Luna has been hiding something for a couple of days. She has cuts on her fingers, but she won't say anything and whatever it is, it always happens when I'm not with her. I hope the Ravenclaws have not started bullying her again._

 _I suppose everything I'm telling you, you already know. The matron at the orphanage used to say that good people went to Paradise, and that they could watch over us. I think you'd definitively watch over Harry, at least. I hope it's nice wherever you are._

 _Love,_

 _Lilibul._

* * *

"Harry, where is your dragon?"

"Oh, I, er, lost it. It ran away."

"Oh…"

* * *

 _Hello Lily,_

 _Winter has arrived. The grounds are covered in at least six inches of snow, it's great. There was never this much snow back in London, and the one winter I spent out in the street was horrible. There was the cold, which you'd expect, but also other children trying to steal our foods or whatever we had. We had to take turns staying awake to make sure no one actually managed to take anything from us._

 _I miss Fey, and Lucy, and Philip. I know I'll never see Philip again, and I don't even know if Fey and Lucy are alive._

 _This time, I'm going to try and convince Father to celebrate the holiday with Luna and I. Otherwise, Albus told me he spends it hidden in his quarters, and I'd like to have a christmas with him._

 _The preparations for the Yule Ball are going well. It's funny to see everyone in the upper years panicking about it. Finding a date, learning how to dance… I know Harry doesn't actually feel like going, but he's got no choice, like Fleur. Maybe I could suggest that they go together? That's be less of a pain for both of them._

 _Father says I'm good enough now in Legilimency to keep working on my own, so we're going to start chanting soon. I can't wait: I've read about it a bit, and apparently it's way more linked to intent and feeling than any other sort of magic. You don't really have an incantation, you really just use your voice to guide raw magic. Father says I should be extremely proficient at it because the sheer amount of raw magic I have would make it very easy for it to follow my intent. I'm not too sure about that yet, but we'll see._

 _Another cool thing is that I should be able to use it on my dagger! I haven't had to use it since I enrolled at Hogwarts, aside from that one time I almost stabbed Father. It's a good thing— I haven't had to fight for my life in so long, I never thought I could be so lucky._

 _I've almost picked up to where Luna is in her classes. I'm getting really, really bored in classes now, unless they're hers. In the end, since Father collapsed last year, I've never had the chance to sneak into one of his third year classes. I'm tempted to try that, now. Even if he has to snark at me, it's worth it. I want to learn more, more, more. Maybe someday I'll know so much I'll be able to help people for good. No more Philips. No more scared little boys like at Spurgeon's. No more Lucy's force to fight the flu with only a wet towel and another child's care. Maybe knowing things would help me do that? Or my head will just explode, who knows. Everything is possible in Wizard Land, right?_

 _In the meantime, I've also started borrowing Luna's books on ancient runes and arithmancy. Luna likes those electives, she thinks they're like another form of language. I'd tend to agree with her. I mean, ancient runes are a script for ancient languages anyway, but even arithmancy can be used as a language. Codes are very mathematical, for example. I like sciences; it's too bad muggle subjects aren't taught at Hogwarts, but I suppose the curriculum would be too stuffed if they did that._

 _I have to stop now; I think the charms class is about to move on to the practical part._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Lilibul._

* * *

"It's weird, last year wasn't so busy. Is there no one going home for Christmas?"

"Not really," replied Hermione. "They're all obsessed with the Yule Ball, and I know that at least half the girls from year two and three hope to be invited so they'll still get to go. First years don't care outside of the tasks, and fourth year and up can go whether they have a date or not. The only ones who have to have a date are the champions, since they have to open the ball."

"It's too bad Fleur already had a date. I'm pretty sure she and Harry could be good friends, but this tournament bullshit is not fostering companionship between schools, it's making them competitive."

"I think so too. Did you know, I'm going with Viktor?"

"Viktor who?"

"Krum."

"Oh Hermione, you'll have to dance first. That sounds like doom to me, I'm glad I'm not in your spot. Oh, here's Luna!" Aren waves at the Ravenclaw. "Well, we have to go. Time to work out a bit. See you later, Hermione!"

* * *

 _Hello Lily,_

 _I hope this finds you well, up there._

 _The Yule Ball was a huge mess and a lot of gossip… for pretty much nothing. I know that Harry got bored beyond belief, Ron and Hermione had a fight, and that Father got jumped on by Karkaroff. The disgusting human had too much wine, a dark mark to talk about, and an unrequited crush crush on him. Ew. I don't care much about Father's orientation, romantic or otherwise, but Karkaroff is really to… Ew._

 _We didn't see any of that anyway. I got my way with Father, so we all spent our Christmas together. It was great! My first Christmas with family! Lu' got an encyclopaedia on mythical creature, in both muggle and wizarding folklore. I didn't expect Father to get her a gift, but I'm not surprised he did._

 _Lu' finally told me what had been wrong about her hands. She's been going around and talking to the other three champions, and she got me their miniature dragons! It's like I have a flock of little chicks of my own, they're adorable. A bit hyperactive, but adorable. Apparently, the champions were really glad to give her the dragons, because the big version had been enough for them. I get it, no one likes looking at a replica of the cause of their trauma._

 _Father got me another thing entirely. Apparently, after much negotiation, I get to skip a year! That means I'll have to catch up on the last two or three weeks I don't know much about yet, but then I finally get to learn something new . It'll be so great! I don't know how he did it, though._

 _There isn't much more to say at the moment. I had my first four chanting lessons, and another one is planned for this evening. Father was right, it's almost an instinct. He thinks I would theoretically not need my wand much, in a few years, if my control stays similar all throughout his teachings. For now, I learned mostly healing chants, but I hope I'll get to learn more soon. I don't even really need to sing for real (that worried me, I never properly learned to sing), I just have to let my voice guide the magic, then the magic guide my voice, all in regards to what I mean to do. It's a bit more complex than that, but well, I guess you know that already. Apparently, he taught you too._

 _I hope I get to learn more about you soon._

 _Much love,_

 _Lilibul._

* * *

 _Hello Lily,_

 _Happy new year!_

 _Father is grumpy today. He keeps growling at other students in the hallways, and Albus even had to tell him to go cool down on his own. I think Father didn't like that, but he tends to be grumpy on holidays like this. He wasn't as much during Christmas, but it might be because watching over the pack of hormonal adolescents the evening before tired him out. I can't imagine how he'll be on Valentine's day._

 _We started on chanting two days ago. Healing seemed instinctive to me, but I think offensive magic is definitely my forte, no matter the form of it. Lu' joined us, though, because according to Father, letting me keep teaching her what he teaches me would lead to disaster. Lu' is much, much better at healing chants than I am. There's too much love in her to do harm, I think. She tried chanting on a small dagger once, and the metal of the blade turned supple and blunt and it was not a blade at all anymore. It was more like a wand, actually, but in metal. Maybe she'd be a good wand maker?_

 _I've been thinking about Fey and Lucy a lot these days. Winter already almost killed Lucy that time we were in the streets during new year's, and she's always been fragile. I miss them. Are there any charms or spells I could use to find them? I couldn't leave the castle on my own anyway…_

 _Father is more and more protective these days, and I think it has a lot to do with Karkaroff trying to corner him all the time to talk about his tattoo. He seems to think it means something, that the Dark Lord is getting closer or something, and if there is one thing Father doesn't want it's that. He had a hard enough time with it when Snake Face was last active._

 _Apparently, even if I'll be in third year, I won't be allowed to go out on Hogsmeade weekends, because of Father's over-protective streak but also because it has to do with your age, not your year. Not that I'd go anyway, I'd rather stay with Lu'._

 _Father's birthday is soon, barely more than a week. I'm still thinking about what to get him. It's the first time I get to offer him something, I want it to be great. But I don't know him that well yet… I don't have any sort of idea. I don't want to offer him anything potion related, that'd be too obvious and not personal at all. And my birthday gift was such a good one (I have a chain with charms!) that I don't want to half-ass this. Maybe I should look into that?_

 _Classes start the very same day, so he'll be nervous too. Or pissed off, I'm not too sure. We'll see. When was your birthday? Maybe there's no point asking, since I probably won't ever get an answer. I love talking to you anyway._

 _I hope I get to meet you one day._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Lilibul._

* * *

How dare that joke of a human attack Professor Hagrid like that? Aren was furious, and the walls of the Bird's nest were shaking. In her hands, the Daily Prophet , with a headline that made the hair on her arms stand on ends.

 _DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE_

 _Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures. Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year..._

Bullshit! He'd been cleared for that Chamber of Secrets mess, and he was one one the softest professors in the school. Aren couldn't say she knew him well aside from Ginny, Luna and Hermione's tales, since she didn't have him as a professor herself; but he'd always been a genial, happy man with a too-soft heart for creatures he thought to be in distress. And he hardly knew her but he'd still taught her how to care for the miniature dragons, and that all four were girls, which she should have expected since the real-sized ones were nesting mothers.

Luna was sitting by Aren's side, the soft smile that she always had on her face uncharacteristically absent.

"He doesn't deserve that", the taller blonde said, in a voice so soft it sounded sort of fragile, too. "He's got so much love in him and so much care, how could he ever be a danger?"

"Well, he does love dangerous creatures a bit too much but that has nothing to do with his genetics. And he is certainly not the one being dangerous in that case. And that…" Aren looked at the bottom of the article. "That Skeeter person looks like they're more of a hazard than Professor Hagrid. Seriously, I call bullshit."

"Did you know Hagrid is one of the people I get the least tar from? He's not muted like you —I got nothing from you at the beginning— but he's just… all light and care and softness. Albus is all light too, but the blinding sort, it almost pierces my eyes. But Hagrid is too soft for that."

"You've never seen the tar on him?" That surprised Aren. Even Albus had episodes of tar, apparently, thought they were extremely rare.

"Once. When Malfoy started trying to get Buckbeak into trouble, Hagrid was leaking tar but… even then it was soft. It didn't spread, you know, like it tends to do with Su Li or Vane, but it stayed very close to him instead like he was conscious of it and trying to hold it in. Which doesn't usually work, it just makes things worse instead, but apparently he cares so much that it still works for him."

Aren was curious. She'd like to speak more to Professor Hagrid, she thought, because she didn't think she'd ever met anyone so inherently good besides Luna. Even she could tell she'd be a walking pot of tar and would probably poison her Ravenclaw friend if she wasn't so muted; Aren could say, in all honesty, that she was probably rather toxic to people. Severus was like that too, though he was usually quite blank according to Luna. The little Slytherin suspected it had to do with the mind arts, and would maybe explain why she was so blank too, but she had no proof.

Jade, one of the little dragons, bit her ear softly to get her attention then wave her head towards the stairs leading to the Bird's Nest. Three seconds later, a first blond head appeared, then a second one.

"Bonjour, mes petites chouquettes!" Fleur beamed at them."

Time for another lesson.

* * *

 _Hello Lily,_

 _It was Father's birthday today. I found a gift two days ago and rush-ordered it, but I am so glad. I think he really liked it._

 _When I read into the old customs surrounding this necklace business, I read that parents usually give their children tokens of their appreciations when they turn parents themselves for the first time, and another one when they have their first son. Apparently they get both at once when the first child is a boy, to which I'd say f-duck the patriarchy. Seriously, what's wrong with being a girl? Or neither? Fey would have been so sad at that._

 _But back to the topic: I got Father the one you get when you become a parent. I know for a fact his father wouldn't have given him one, and his mother never could. Actually, if I understood everything right, they were both dead before I was even… conceived._

 _The charm is in the shape of a tree in a circle, with the branches twisting around the trunk. It looks almost like a tiny Christmas tree decoration, the size of my middle finger's nail. It's that same silver, salmon-tinted metal as the rest of it, and I think Father really, really liked it. He'd have maybe cried, if he had allowed himself to. He never does, of course; his image to keep and all that. I hope one day he'll get that I don't give a flying f- duck about his image, and that he can be safe at home. Might take time, though._

 _He immediately slipped the charm on the chain, and he actually hugged me. It's weird, a real hug from a real parent. I never thought I would get even one, nevermind several._

 _His necklace is still mostly hidden under his robe, because people would ask questions if they saw the tree charm, but I can see it if I squint. He's wearing it between the top layer of his robes and his shirt underneath, so I can see the shape of it under the fabric. It makes me weirdly happy._

 _Finding a gift for Father next year will be a bit more complicated, but I don't care. It's too satisfying to try to get the perfect thing for people and to see you nailed it. I think I can safely say I nailed it this time._

 _Another thing that makes me happy is that today, I started attending classes with Lu's year. I'm not with her in all classes —potions, for example, which is sad because I'd love to see how she'd behave there. Call it unhealthy curiosity, I suppose._

 _The weather is still very cold. Professor Hagrid has been hiding since the article got out, and I just wish I could help him, but it's not really my place, I suppose. I hope he'll grow out of it soon. I want to get to know him too, not only through other people's tales, and considering I'm a freak myself, I don't give a Knut about his heritage._

 _I bet you'd have known what to go and tell him. I also bet you give great hugs. I wish you could have hugged me too._

 _A third of my love, because the second third goes to Father and the last one to Lu'._

 _Lilibul._

* * *

The good side of things was that, since Slytherin third years never had classes with the Hufflepuffs, she was always either with Luna or Ginny. Ginny, more used to her now that her temper was back to being somewhat normal, welcomed her with open arms, and they tended to sit together. It had cause a bit of general indignation, especially from the rest of Slytherin, to see her sit with a Gryffindor, and Severus had explained to her that it was because she had "chosen to sit with a Weasley, of all Gryffindors to sit with, and it seemed to be an insult to the rest of the house since the Weasley are blood traitors". Severus didn't seem to agree in private, but still had to maintain his image in public; still, Aren and Ginny were both rather good potioneers for their age, and could handle themselves whether they were on their own or paired together. It meant that Severus did not have much of an opportunity to criticize them, and that was easier on all of them.

The first transfiguration class with the Ravenclaws had been brilliant. For once, she had learned in class, and she had been able to learn it at the same time as Luna. She was a bit sad that she'd missed the lecture on Animagi that happened at the beginning of the year, but since her father hadn't yet said 'no' to teaching her, she was determined to get him to start actually doing it soon.

She felt insatiable. There was always more to know, more to exercise on, more to read, more to invent… by her third week in third year, Luna, Ginny and her had established a very satisfying routine. The ones to finish class first would go to the library until the last one was done, and they spent an hour more there to complete whatever homework they had been given that day; that took them to about a quarter past six usually. At that point, they would take the books out that they wanted to borrow, and left together for dinner. They sat either with the Gryffindors or the Ravenclaws since the Slytherins were so hostile to the three of them. Only Tori was kind to them, though she avoided them in crowded places. Aren understood; her family was putting pressure on her to be a good pureblood daughter, and even though she knew Tori hated it, she also knew the older girl had no choice.

When they ate at the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ronald and Hermione joined them. It was all in good fun, though she could still sense that Ronald was a bit wary. They heard about Harry's trouble with his egg-banshee, but all Luna kept saying was that it sounded wet. None of the other five knew what to make of that, because the sound was screechy and aggressive and sort of felt like it was crawling up your bones, but it didn't sound wet to them.

When they ate at the Ravenclaw table, Fleur and Victoire would often join them. In the beginning, they tried speaking in French, but Ginny knew too little of it to be able to follow, and none of the other girls wanted to make her feel excluded. Being close to two of the four champions meant that most topics closely related to the tournament were tacitly banned, bar a few mundane topics such as the Yule Ball had been. Fleur still regretted going a sixth year Ravenclaw named Roger Davies. He'd been respectful enough but still affected by her allure and had kept bragging pompously about his achievements, which were sadly few and far between as he had not even graduated yet.

By seven, when they were done, they would go to the duelling room she trained in with Severus, and they practiced whatever they had been taught about or what they'd seen in their books. Luna taught her version of occlumency to Ginny —Aren was really, really bad at it— or told them about random facts they had pulled from books.

By the time the second task rolled around, Luna and Aren had dragged Ginny in their wake and they were now regarded as the three most accomplished students of their year; Professor McGonagall kept gushing about Ginny, saying she hadn't had such a proficient Gryffindor in transfiguration since James Potter and Sirius Black, though her expression turned sour at that second name.

* * *

The morning of the second task was a bit of a mess. After breakfast, Aren and Luna left the Great Hall together to go to the lake, where the task was supposed to take place, until a panicked Ginny went up to them.

"Aren, Luna, has either of you seen Ron?"

Aren immediately nodded left and right, and Luna took a bit more time to consider it before answering. "I haven't, sorry. Last time we saw him, he was with Harry and Hermione in the library looking up something."

"I haven't seen Hermione either, actually. It's rare, we're usually among the first to get up in the morning so there's only two of us in the bathrooms, but I haven't seen her today, and I'm positive that she wasn't in her bed."

"Didn't Harry see them?"

"I just barely glanced at him, he was running to the lake. I think he just woke up. He was alone though, and I'm worried for Ron and Hermione. Ron wouldn't miss the tournament for anything in the world, and Hermione would never leave Harry on his own, not on the day of a task."

"Hmmm… Can the two of you wait a minute here?"

They both nodded, and Aren ran to find the staff.

* * *

 _Hello Lily,_

 _The second task is over, and it was a mess… again._

 _The champions had to find a way to navigate —har, har— the Black Lake for an hour, and go to the bottom of it to fetch a thing that was irreplaceable to them. Well, guess what, turns out those things are people . The judges are bloody mad I tell you._

 _Anyway, Ron and Hermione were missing on the morning of the task, because Ronald was Harry's 'object', and Hermione was Krum's. Krum is a bulgarian student at Durmstrang. So Ginny came up to Lu' and I, and was terrified, because she hadn't seen either of them and Harry was gone to get ready for the task already, and she asked us if we'd seen them. I left her with Lu', and I went to Father who explained the nature of the task to me. I went back immediately and relayed the information to the girls, so Ginny settled down a bit, but then Harry had to be a bloody idiot and try to save his 'object' and Fleur's. Liek Albus would ever have let them drown in the lake, hah._

 _Well, all that matters is that everyone is safe, despite the tournament. And I'm glad Victoire didn't have to spend any more time in that water than necessary._

 _The champions don't have any clues yet on the third task, so they have some time for general training now, and I'd like to offer Harry to join us in the duelling room sometimes. I doubt there's anything a second year —well, third year now— can do to help him but at least he'll have a safe environment and adapted environment to train, and I guess that's something. I still want to check with Fleur first, because I don't want to take sides. They're both my friends, and Fleur more so, though I appreciate Harry a lot too. He definitely has a saving people thing, as Hermione puts it, but he's also had quite a few experiences similar to my own. I'd like to be better friends with him._

 _Love, always,_

 _Lilibul._

* * *

"Ginny, do you know whose bird this is?"

Ginny turned to Harry, who was untying a letter from a barn owl's foot. Hermione, Ron, Luna and Aren were leaving the table already, Aren ahead of them to check a book back in with Mrs Pince.

"I don't think so, why?"

"I've been receiving letters for a couple months now, and it's… weird."

"Weird how?"

Harry hesitated. "Well, they're all addressed to my mother , of all people, so it's weird but it still makes sense that I would receive them, seeing as she's… dead. But it's all signed Lilibul, and there's a lot of mentions of a Father… Say, who did you stay with during the second task?"

"Aren and Luna. I panicked when I didn't see Ron and Hermione, so I went to ask them if they had, and Aren went to ask Snape if he knew what it was all about. Minerva was there and explained it to her, I think? Anyway, she came back and relayed the information and we stayed together during the whole task."

"You're sure? You didn't ask anyone else?" Harry was aware that he probably sounds slightly demented, but he didn't care. This was too weird and if it was true…

"Yes. They were the first I went to and then we stuck together until we were back with you three."

"But then, if the Lu' mentioned in the letter is Luna and that you only talked to them… that means that Luna has been writing to my mother all this time under a name like Lilibul ?"

And there was very little chance that Professor McGonagall was Aren's father, though it _still_ was a possibility, which meant that…

" _Snape is Aren's father_?"


	19. Chapter 19

"Wait, come again?"

"I think Snape is Aren's father. Or at least she calls him that."

"Are you sure she's not writing about Albus? He did sort-of adopt her, so it would make sense."

"No," Harry shook his head, "I'm pretty sure I've seen them named at the same time as different persons in one of the letters. I might be wrong, I have to check again, but I really think it's not Albus. The only other that would fit, taking what you said into account, is Snape."

"Damn. I mean, he's pretty decent with me since I… started hanging out… with Aren. Hm. But anyway, he's decent, but I can't see him being a father ." The very idea was mind-boggling to Ginny.

"But that's it! Remember, Aren stayed in an orphanage until she joined Hogwarts— ah, wait no, she stayed for a while in the streets. But that means she didn't grow up with him. He's never had to be a father, at least I think so."

"Do you think Snape was the one to leave her in an orphanage?" Even with how aggressive and nasty Snape could be, she had trouble imagining him doing that. She supposed Harry had less difficulties with that, considering how out-for-his-blood the professor seemed to be.

"That's always a possibility, I suppose, but something feels wrong about it."

That's the moment Aren chose to come back to the hall to meet up with Ginny, and she immediately froze when she spotted the owl still on Harry's arm, her letter in his hand.

* * *

Aren didn't know what to do. Severus had told her in explicit words that no one could know, ever. By the way Harry and Ginny were staring at her, though, there was no doubt they already had some strong suspicions. Harry was the first to speak up.

"Why Lilibul?"

"It's a diminutive I made up for lilium bulbiferum , or 'Fire Lily'. That's my middle name."

"Fire Lily is your middle name? I thought you didn't even have a last name?"

"No, no. Lily is my middle name. And it's a recent, very not official addition. Officially, I'm still Aren Spurgeon to the muggle world and Aren Dumbledore to the wizarding one."

"Spurgeon? Wait, no, why a recent addition?"

"Because I asked father to tell me what I would've been named, and he answered Lily. I can't make it my name, or take his last name, for safety reasons; so I did that so that there is still… something."

"By father, do you mean—" Ginny was interrupted by Aren's hand slamming itself into her mouth.

"Sh! Not here," the youngest hissed, "I told you that it's a secret for safety reasons. Come with me." She turned to take a little piece of paper, writing a quick note to Severus.

I might be missing some classes this morning. Harry and Ginny found out about you, I kinda messed up. I'll explain everything to you tonight, but I have to do some damage control first, so they'll be missing classes too. Sorry.

Lilibul.

"Aspic!" She called the owl, which flew from Harry's arm to hers. "Deliver this to father immediately. I don't want him to panic or get angry… yet." She pet the bird twice, then let him fly off, before she looked at Harry and Ginny again. "Come with me. I made sure the professor know that you haven't been captured by Death Eaters or something. With a bit of luck, you won't even have a detention for skipping. I definitely get at least one or two though." She started walking off as she spoke, to avoid anyone being able to listen in on the whole conversation.

They walked briskly to the owlery, before Aren led them up the long stairs to the Bird's Nest. She was relieved to see that neither Fleur nor Victoire were there; they knew she was a Blue Blood, but they didn't know about Severus and she'd rather not have all her information with the same person.

She sat in one of the deep green bean-bags strewn all over the circular room and gestured to Harry and Ginny to do the same.

"Can I ask a couple questions first?" Aren started. The two Gryffindors nodded. "How long have you been receiving the letters?" She asked Harry.

"I'd say… Yes. Just after Christmas. But I received three letters at once, like they'd been stopped for a while before someone finally decided that as her son, letters addressed to my mom went to me."

"How many do you have in total?"

"Wait a sec…" Harry rummaged through his bag's content and dragged a bundle of letters out. He quickly counted them, "six of them."

"Then you have them all. That's good, I was worried more of them had gone to people I hadn't expected." Her shoulder visibly relaxed, and she leaned back against her bean-bag's bulk. "I need your promise that nothing, and I mean nothing of this goes outside of this room. Anyone hearing about this could mean the death of several people. Including me, and my father, and you."

"Are you seriously telling me that Sn—" Aren's hand was back on Harry's mouth, stopping him before he could get the word out, and silently spelled the room with a Muffliato , a spell her father had taught her. Something like a beetle took several aborted attempts at flying off before it succeeded, like the spelled had fried it.

"Snape is my father, yes, and no he didn't know I was his daughter until I joined Hogwarts. In fact, it took us a few months to figure out that I was his daughter. And yes, if people knew, his life would be at stake. He has to stay off the grid for most of his activities, commanded by Albus, and considering my unique circumstances, it would put him in a spotlight that could get him in very, very serious danger. If you cost me my father, I will not forgive either of you, you hear me?"

They mutely nodded, the both of them. Aren gave them a few minutes to absorb it, before Ginny spoke up.

"How did you find out? That he was your father, I mean."

"Remember about my magical accidents at the beginning of last year?" Aren settled with a half truth. "Basically, Poppy ran a test on me, discovered I had a genetic condition, then remembered seeing it in Severus. Since he was not actively hindered by it, and I needed a magical transfusion, he was the most likely person to be both at hand and compatible. She tested him again too, and paf! Congratulation, it's a girl. That's literally what she told him, and she said later that she'd never seen him looking so dumb."

"Whoa, Snape, dumb. That's a concept; he's a damn git alright, but not dumb. Wonder what that's like…" Harry muttered. "How can you even stand it?"

"Stand what?"

"Being his daughter. He's a right pain in the arse, isn't he?"

"Back off, Harry. For one, there is more in common between him and you than you'd like to know, and his tendency to be an arse, as you say, comes from the circumstances. And he's my father. I'm aware of his faults, among which his iconic bad temper or how obstinate he can be. But he is good, and I love him, and he makes me feel safer than anyone ever has, and I will hex your tongue off if you talk like that about him in my presence."

"Alright, alright! I'll zip it!" Harry held his hands up in a pacifying gesture.

"And he's also one of the reason you got to go to the Weasley's last summer," she added to nail the coffin properly.

"What?" Ginny interrupted? "How?"

"I spent my summer with Albus and Severus. I tried to talk them into letting you come and they wouldn't agree, but then Severus suggested going to your place instead."

"Damn," Harry said, at the same time as Ginny said "Weird."

"Other questions?" Aren wanted to be done with this as soon as she could.

"Ah!" Harry shouted, "Yes, ummm… why… why are you writing to my mum?"

"That's… a bit more complex. Severus is my father, but I don't know who my other parent is. I know nothing about them, aside from the fact that they threw me into an orphanage two hours after I was born… and the initial plan was to kill me."

"That's terrible, but how is that related to Mrs. Potter?" Trust Ginny to stay on track.

"Well, my father and her were childhood friends an—"

" WHAT? " The shout had been immediate, but then Harry just stared at her, his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide like they were trying to pop out of his skull. Aren just returned a blank stare at him.

"Will you let me finish? Then, you can yell."

"Um… Uh-uh, go on. Sorry." He at least at the grace to appear sheepish.

"Lily and my father were childhood friends. They grew up in the same neighbourhood, I think. Anyway, they kept their friendship through most of Hogwarts, until he made a mistake he never had the chance to take back. He was a prat, there's no other way to put it, but he did apologize and try to change his way. Lily was just not ready to hear it. Anyway, she died before they could probably bridge the gap, and I think your parents were in hiding anyway, right Harry?" The boy nodded, silent for now. "So he really had no chance to make amend at that point. Plus, he had… circumstances, at that time." No way in hell was she telling them that he'd been a Death Eater and then had become a spy. "Anyway, all that's to say they were pretty close for a long time… He loved her a so much, not in the romantic sense but as family. I got to see a few of the letters they exchanged, and it is sort of obvious. Then since we can't make it official that I'm his daughter, I asked him what he would've called me if he'd known earlier that I existed, and he answered ' Lily. Or Lillian. ' So I made that my middle name."

"Alright. The idea that my mom and Snape were pals is a bit hard to swallow, but ok. But it still doesn't explain why you're writing to her?"

"First of all, had Lily been alive, Father would probably have asked her to be my godmother; well, and had he known I existed. And even then, it's a bit more complex than that. I'm not too sure myself. It's just that as I said, I'm basically a pile disposable trash to my other parent; so when Severus told me stories about Lily, her good and bad sides, and their mischief, and everything, I felt way closer to her than I will ever feel to the person who gave birth to me. I thought, well, that person is dead to me anyway, until I actually kill her myself. If I have a dead parent, I'd rather choose the parent, and Lily, I knew her, if at least second hand… I'm sorry, I'm not making much sense, am I?"

"So you're writing to my mom because you see her as your mom too?" Harry had his eyebrows furrowed, and Aren couldn't read if it was perplexity, or anger, or just possessiveness.

"I'm sorry. I know I don't have any right to her, she's your mom, and she was dead before I was even conceived-"

Ginny made a face. "Ew, don't make me think about Snape being involved in anyone's conception, thanks." Aren immediately muttered a 'uh, rude much?' but didn't take her focus of Harry. It was almost a full minute before he spoke again.

"I think… there is a part of me that wants to selfishly say that no, she's mine and you don't get to have her. But I know that you don't have a mother either, and that the orphanage was horrible, and it's not like you're stealing her away from me, are you? Voldemort did that, not you. As you said, you didn't even exist back then. It's more like we're sharing. I guess? I don't… I'm really, really not sure. I'll have to think more about it." He suddenly looked up from his hand, which he'd been staring at the whole time. "Ah! But you don't have to stop writing! Just… now you know that I'm the one getting the letters. Actually, it was nice, you know? It sounded like you really cared in those letters. About me and everyone else. That's… not something I'm used to."

Aren nodded. "I know."

"Say, Snape told you stories about my mom, right? That's what you said earlier?"

"Yes. That's how I got to 'know' her."

"Could you tell me? I don't know much about her- about either of my parents really. I know that I look like my dad with my mom's eyes on his face, and that he was good at Quidditch and was friends with Si- Padfoot , and that mom was smart, but that's all."

"Why don't you go ask Severus?"

Harry looked sheepish again, and a bit surly, for just a moment.

"He hates me," he said. "He's hated me from the first moment he saw me."

"Actually, he hates your father. As you said, it's hard to look beyond the fact that you look like him, if you believe what everyone says, so there's probably a bit of that seeping through his composure. But he wouldn't be protecting you so much if he hated you or if he didn't give a damn."

"Still… how do I know he's telling me the truth?"

"You don't. I'm serious here," she added after he looked at her like she'd sprouted a third arm. "You don't know, but honestly he's more likely to glorify Lily than make her the bad guy. That's something that is more likely to happen about your dad, so don't believe him when he tells you stories about him, because he's pretty bitter about the whole mess. To him, it's like James tore his little sister away from him."

"Hmm… I'll see." He rubbed the nape of his neck, looking at the tip of his feet in front of him.

Harry and Ginny silently left the tower after a bit of idle chit-chat that felt forced, to fill the eerie silence, and Aren was left to watch over Jade and Toothpick snapping at each other.

She only stopped mulling over the whole conversation when she had to pry Toothpick off of Jade's tail and spell the scales of the little green dragon back into shape.

* * *

"I am not disappointed, Aren, but worried. There's a difference."

When his daughter had told him about what had happened in the hall and later in the Birds Nest, he had very, very slowly —he tended to avoid quick, ample gestures when she was with him, for their peace of mind— risen his hand to cover his face.

"Well, I for sure am. I never should have sent those letters. Not like it could've been received by the right person anyway. It was stupid."

"It's not. Unless you actually did it as a prank for Potter, that would be stupid and mostly pointless." He levelled his stare on her. "That wasn't the objective, was it?"

"Of course not! I just… I'd written them, and one day I thought 'why the hell not', and then I sent them. I never knew Harry would be the one to get them, though it does make sense in retrospect." He did not avert his eyes, so Aren did. "I wanted to talk to her… The best substitute was to write to her. It feels less stupid than talking to the air."

That… did not make much sense to Severus.

"Is it because of your middle name? You feel like you want to talk to her because of that?" That was a flimsy reason, but she was still nine months short of her tenth birthday. Severus was still surprised to hear her deny it.

"Not really. I mean, sure, there's that, but…" Severus let her think. She was obviously considering telling him something, and hesitating a great deal. Knowing Aren, if it was anything vital or possibly dangerous, she'd have told her already; she actually just had. This meant it was 'trivial' but still greatly important to her, and if she needed the time, she would have it. "You know, I know nothing about my other parent? You won't even tell me who they are. Which, okay, I get it, safety and also not going after them, yaddah yaddah… but it still means I don't know them. I actually hate them, for all the mess they caused, me included." Oh hell no. He was going to let her finish what she was saying, but he wasn't about to let that one pass. "Anyway… I know a lot more about Lily. Through you, I mean, because for some reason there's not much to read about her in the library because everyone focuses on the great James Charlus Potter and of course a girl can't be more skilled or intelligent or brilliant or mischievous right? But you showed me they're wrong and that Lily is- was awesome and a fury, and-" she was speaking faster and faster, a ramble in a tone he was getting familiar with. She was incensed on Lily's behalf, but for the most part she was just panicking, and he was starting to have an inkling why.

"-and I wanted her to be my mom but she can't be because she's dead!" and then she burst into tears.

It was quite different from how she usually cried, if you can call 'usual' the five or six times he'd been there to see it. When she came down from a panic attack or a flashback, she tended to cry in silence, not even sniffling, and the only clue would be the actual tears and snot, that she usually hid by burrowing her face in his cloak, and the staccato rhythm of her breathing, all without noise.

In that moment, he could say that Aren was ugly-crying. She was loudly sobbing, and wiping her nose on her left sleeve every two or three seconds, using the other to wipe her eyes. It was useless, because as soon as she removed her hand, she had to wipe her eyes again; the tears kept flowing. Still, she was not moving towards him, she just sat in her chair, her legs still and the rest of her trying to follow that very same trend. Severus decided to act before she suffocated herself by trying to stop crying.

"Aren, come here." He made sure his voice was as soft as it could be. "Come on, Aren. Come here." He beckoned her to follow the instruction with his hand. Aren got up, and walked up to him, but did not throw herself into clinging to him like children tended to. She was used to dealing with sadness alone, but real heartbreak was harder to deal with, especially when one had pretended for so long that it simply didn't exist.

She just stood there, next to his seated form, and tightly gripped the tiniest bit of his sleeve she could grab with the tip of her fingers, as if she was afraid he'd push her away when he'd asked her to come closer in the first place. With her left sleeve, she kept alternating between wiping her nose and her eyes.

Severus lightly looped his arm around her tiny waist, then nudged her so she turned around, and finally lifted her slightly until he could get his legs under her, so she was sitting in his lap. He then softly pushed at her back until her front was leaning on his torso.

Severus had initiated a hug. His reputation was dead and six(teen) feet underground.

"Did you know that us Snapes are absolute disasters at handling emotions? It runs in the family. We tend to… shove it into a corner of our mind, to forget it, but we do that all the time until we're tilted with all the weight in that corner. And then we fall. You're falling at the moment, Aren, because you were tilted, and tired of trying to right yourself. That's okay, you can get back up. Shhhh. Deep breaths. Did you know I was like you when I was a teenager? I shoved all my anger at my father in a tiny, tiny corner. Shhhhh. What I didn't know was that the corner was not so small— it was bottomless, and getting heavier and heavier. And then, my father died, and all my anger and hurt and- shhhhh, there, breathe calmly- and wanting to be loved just… let me know they were there, in that corner, and I fell very, very hard." He chuckled, trying awkwardly to lighten the mood. "I was a decidedly awkward, angsty young man. A mess walking on two gangly legs." There was a wet laughing sound from somewhere around his sternum. He let a few minutes pass before picking the previous subject back up.

"It's normal that you want a mother, Aren, though I can't say I know what it feels like. My father was the worst trash available on this earth, but my mother loved me, and it made all the difference. All I can do is love you as much as I can myself. And I'm glad that my stories made you choose Lily as your mother instead, for all the impossibilities it presents. She'd have loved you so much with all your fire and courage and skill and cunning."

A sniff. "Really?"

"Really."

"How will you manage with Harry and Ginny? Luna is less likely to be attacked for information or leverage, but them… I mean, Harry is Harry so obviously they'd go for him. Ginny has been hanging with him a lot these past few weeks so she'd probably be targeted too."

"That's actually way more simple than it looks," Severus answered in his best voice. "We'll have to have them swear to keep the secret."

"You mean a Fidelius?"

"Yes. I'm not overly fond of the spell myself, considering that its imperfections led to Lily and her husband being killed, but it has its advantages where information retention is concerned."

That was the end of this conversation, it seemed. Aren was still puffy-eyed and sniffling from time to time, but she had stopped crying. She was still fiercely gripping handfuls of his robes in her small fists, as if afraid the moment she relaxed her hold, he'd slip away. Severus never tried to push her away, giving her time to center herself.

He knew she had done so when she asked in a raspy but calm voice:

"How do you know she'd have loved me?"

"Well, for one, I knew her for several years. That definitely helps. I also know she really, really wanted a daughter, although from what I saw when I crossed them at meetings with Albus, she couldn't have been happier than she was with Harry. She just… she loved children, and her children in particular, more than most people. And when I was in a somber mood, thinking about the child I'd probably never have, I always saw myself asking her to be their godmother. I simply regret that I will never get to do that, first because she was dead before you ever existed, and second because I never knew you existed in the first place until last year."

"You mean, she'd legitimately have been my replacement mother?"

"Well, yes. That is what godparents are supposed to be. In the case one of the parents dies, a godparent assumes their duties in their stead."

Aren's eyes were round like saucers, actually letting him see how red they actually were, and her mouth was open in a tiny, silent 'oh', and it struck him how rare it was for him to see her act like her age. Her face was usually set in a serious expression that compensated her small stature and made most people perceive her as several years older than she was… unless it suited their agenda or their fancy at the moment. He still wanted to stick several students in detention or get them expelled for that daddy kink bullshit they had pulled.

Oh well. They all had to end up in his class at some point anyway… He could get his need for revenge sorted then, and not in the most mature way either. He could at least sort the detention bit himself.

His inner glee was interrupted by Aren's stomach loudly reminding them at that they had yet to eat dinner. The little girl turned scarlet and mumbled a tiny 'sorry', but Severus just softly snorted and got up.

"I believe we forgot something , Snape youngling. Let's see what we have… I doubt that you feel like going back to the great hall at the moment. Or am I wrong?" The little terror shook her head, and he turned back to their frost box —a magical equivalent to muggle fridges— to see what they had indeed. "We have… lardons, a bit of cheese, chicken… some cauliflower… wait, I have to check-" he went to a cupboard and indeed… "we have flour. Whit the eggs and a bit of butter, I can make a quiche lorraine."

"What's that?"

"Ah, well, I suggest you start by trying it, and if you like it, you can ask more about it to your friends, the Delacour sisters. It's a french dish, though I don't remember much more about it. And how to make it, obviously."

"Sure, let's give it a go?"

The rest of the evening was spent mixing different ingredients and trying to avoid making a mess, eating the result and… cleaning the kitchen of the mess they had, after all, definitely made.

* * *

The next day, around mid-morning, Aren and Luna were summoned to the Headmaster's office. On their way there, they met Harry and Ginny, who looked way less comfortable. Harry was obviously used by now to going to Albus' office, are rather impassive. Luna was just her usual serene self, and she was happily holding Aren's hand as they walked down the corridor.

Aren took the opportunity to 'debrief' them as they walked.

"There's nothing too bad really. I told f- professor Snape that you found out, and they're just going to swear you to secrecy. There's not particular risk involved, and it's infaillible… almost. But it'll keep you safe."

Ginny looked like that worked wonders for her nerves, but now it was Harry's turn to look decidedly green.

" Snape is there? Shit. He hates me, that can't end well."

"Oh, get off of it Harry," Ginny lightly swatted him on the arm, "even if he was that much of a git, he wouldn't dare do anything in Dumbledore's office , you know?"

"Hrmpf…"

"Well, wasn't that articulate."

* * *

"Come in, children, come in. Do not worry about your classes, what they don't already know they will learn by lunch. You are all excused for the remainder of the morning. Now," Albus said as the children were settling in four chairs in front of his desk, "we just need Professor Snape to arrive. In the meantime, you can ask questions, if you have any?"

"Not at the moment really, sir. Or, well… how is this going to work?"

"It's simple enough, my boy," there was a wince from Harry, "you will just have to focus on what you learned yesterday and it will all pass into secrecy when the spell is done. It will protect you, as you will simply be unable to speak of what you learned, but it will not hurt you in any way."

"Alright, sir. But… in that case, why is Luna here? She wasn't with us yesterday."

Aren was the one to answer that, after glancing at Luna to make sure it was ok to speak for her.

"Luna's a bit of a seer, actually, and she'd guessed even before f- Sn- father and I had figured it out. Crap, this is going to need some getting used to. Talking about him as father to anyone but Albus or Luna feels… foreign."

"Talk about it…" Harry had a slightly dazed, perplexed look on his face. The notion of Snape as a father to anyone was probably enough to burn half his brain, figuratively speaking. It still irked Aren more than she'd expected.

"Talking about it is weird, the fact that he's my father is not. And this is a last reminder, but show at least some amount of respect for him when I'm here. It's insulting, especially when he keeps saving your skin. I know he's been an ass to you but most of it was a role —he hates your father, not you. I've talked it out with him and he's ready to make it milder… he'll pretend that Albus gave him a warning if anyone asks questions; but he can't change much if you're not ready to act accordingly on the other end of that effort." She gave a little pause, as if in thoughts. "Actually, if you weren't my friend, I'd feel like hexing you into bloody tomorrow."

"Right, right. Will do. Sorry." And then he sank into something that could be described as half sulking, half contemplative. He wasn't left to it for long, because not five minutes later, Severus entered the room.

"Albus…" he bowed his head in a little, sharp movement.

"Severus, my boy! Come, come. We're ready. I've already explained the process to them so we can begin anytime." He took his wand out, and got ready to cast, but Severus stopped him by putting his hand lightly on the older man's casting arm.

"Albus, I'm sorry but I… would rather cast myself. For two reasons, one of them being-" he stopped himself brutally, gave the fastest glance to Harry, before resuming: "-being what happened last time, the second being that I'd rather be responsible for my own skin. I wish to be both caster and secret keeper, if at all possible."

Albus at first looked like he had been slapped, and Aren glared in her father's direction. She understood him, but he could still have been at least a little less blunt with it. But her grandpa gathered himself quickly, and smiled at the potion master in something that could be interpreted as a benevolent smile.

"Of course, Severus. Do you wish to include me in the secret? It would be safer; otherwise it wouldn't erase the secret from my mind."

"If you wouldn't mind…"

Albus joined the children to form half a circle facing Severus, who started casting.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, would you look at that, I'm alive. Ain't that a wonder. I've started working as of about a month ago, and before that was moving, so that meant very little time and even less energy to write; I'll start getting back into the rhythm now, but I also have make-up exams so I have to review for those... Damn.

On that note, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. It was a tough one to write since it was hard to find a balance between passing the information to the Gryffindors and still not repeating everything that we already know. Not sure I managed.

Let me know in the comments? I _love_ constructive feedback.


	20. Chapter 20

"You know," said Luna almost three months later, on a Tuesday morning at breakfast, as Aren was trying to keep Toothpick away from an angry Bubble trying to roast her, "Hagrid keeps a horde of Thestrals in the forest. Well, 'keeps' is inaccurate, I think. Maybe they guard him?"

In her distraction, Aren got the tip of her fingers singed.

"Ow! Bubble, st- argh, stop it!" She put her ring finger, the one that got the worst of it, in her mouth to try to cool it down. "'here yi' 'hat 'home 'hrom?"

Luna grabbed her wrist softly, tearing the burnt digit from Aren's mouth. "Don't do that, you'll get it infected. Let's go see Poppy. And obviously, it came from my mouth. I think."

"Hmmm… Yeah but you don't say things like that without purpose, so what were you getting at?" She forcibly put Toothpick, Jade and Tickle back in her pockets, where they had apparently decided they'd live, and trapped Bubble into her hat until the tiny demon cooled down. She thought it might take a while, since Bubble was a dragon, even if a minuscule one.

"Hagrid likes slithery things and life and things that fly and did you know he had a baby dragon for three days back in Ronald's first year?"

"... What. Oh! Wait, yes, I remember that."

"So maybe he can help with Bubble? She's been twitchy and gnawy and chewy these days so he's probably the best person to ask in the school. Or Helena, but Helena can only tell you, not show you. And she's Peeved these days."

"Helena?"

"The Ravenclaw ghost. Literally. She's Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter. She knows a lot of things, but she's pretty sad, all things considered. I'd like to cheer her up."

"How do you even cheer a ghost up? Do you have- Oh crap Luna it's already almost nine. Father will kill me."

"He won't, I think. He was sneezing at Professor Moody earlier, and Professor Moody does not like much of anything that Professor Snape does. It might take a while… Maybe you can experiment in the meantime?" Luna's face lit up at the prospect and she immediately sped up. "Let's go! If you're lucky, there'll be some pixie wings left for you to use!"

"Luna! Wait, Luna- I have potions with the Gryffindors, not the Ravenclaws!"

* * *

Severus was stomping his way through the dungeons. Blasted Moody and his blasted paranoia and his blasted tendency to stick to him like over-chewed muggle gum. It had taken a good fifteen minutes before Minerva had noticed his plight and had torn into the ex-Auror. If there were a few things Severus didn't like, it was appearing as a weakling in need of saving, and being under unjustified suspicion. He was a spy, for Frigg's sake! He was supposed to be able to save himself and not to need saving in the first place, mostly because his job was to not be suspected.

He slammed the door to the potion classroom with a loud bang, taking his time before he spoke up in his favourite brand of chilly, nasty, velvety contempt.

"How many of you know how to read? You're third years, and if you don't know by now how to read a blackboard, you have nothing to do in this class— or indeed, in this school at all." He spotted the Weasley girl and Aren in their corner, brewing, but it was definitely not what he'd planned for the session. He'd have been proud if he hadn't been so pissed off. "Dumbledore, Weasley, clean this out this instant and start on the Aconite antidote unless you want to spend every evening for the next month in Argus Filch's lovely company."

Even Aren could feel the sour mood he was in, apparently, because she paled noticeably before helping Weasley vanish the content of their cauldron. That, or she really, really disliked Filch; which he could understand, the man had a foul temper on the best of days. Fouler than his own, even, and he was known for being nasty.

The remainder of the lesson was calm enough, save for Miss Harold who kept trying to fling ingredient in the Slytherin students' cauldrons. She had terrible aim. He threw her out on the first incident, thankfully inconsequential, and the remainder of the class was spent in total silence save for the bubbling of, hopefully, not too disastrous potions.

* * *

After class, Aren and Luna, who had the last period together, went out of the castle, down the path to Hagrid's hut.

"But Luna, what do I even say? I don't know him! I mean I know of him, obviously, and I quite like what I know, but he's never actually talked to me beyond a few phrases when I was stuck in my room because of my legilimency issue, and it seems a bit… entitled, doesn't it, to just barge in and tell him to teach me how to keep my dragons in check."

"No! He'll just be happy, because dragons, and also that someone considers him worth learning from. He had a terrible deal of it last year, what with Draco Malfoy destroying his self-esteem and almost getting his Hippogriff killed. Harry quite likes him, too."

"Who, Hagrid?"

"No, silly! I mean, yes, of course, he likes Hagrid, but I meant Buckbeak."

"The… Hippogriff, I suppose?"

"Yep!" Luna beamed at her. Aren had to admit that it was the most beautiful expression she'd ever seen on anyone's face, but she'd rarely been on the receiving end of much positivity before, so she supposed she might be biased.

"By the way… is Hagrid his first name?"

"No, it's his last name. His first name is Rubeus. Officially, at least. You never know with people."

They kept walking, or in Luna's case skipping, in silence until they reached the door to the teacher's hut. Luna grabbed what looked like a ladle in a nearby barrel, and used it to loudly hit the door two times. A gruff but kind voice sounded, muffled, from the inside of the house.

"Jus' a mo'!"

The door came open with a creak.

"Aren, Luna! Nice of ye both to come down here! C'm'in, c'm'in, here, have a seat. D'you want anything? Tea, biscuits?"

"Thank you, Professor Hagrid, but we really shouldn't spoil our appetite this close to dinner time. How have you been since I last saw you; Luna tells me your classes are going a bit better?"

"Yeh, sort of. 's always a mite tense with the Slytherins, 'specially the fourth years, but since the Malfoy boy 's been taken down a peg, things have gott'n a bit better, yeh."

"Malfoy has been weaving his web in Slytherin for years, leaving his tar over everything he touches, but he doesn't know why. He's in the power of his father and the moment that control fades, the others will pull at the threads and tear him appart. I can only hope he pulls himself from it… he won't on his own. The tar keeps all his threads together, but it also plugs his ears, you know?" Luna looks sad as she says it.

Professor Hagrid looked confused for half a minute before apparently deciding that Luna's weirdness was part of her charm and therefore of no negative consequence. Aren just filed the information away. Trained or not, Luna was if not a seer then an extremely perceptive person, and dismissing her words would be foolish. Shaking his head as he filled his mug with tea, the professor asked:

"So wha's it that brought ye here? I doubt ye want to hear me rave — ye're really sure you don't want some tea? — on an' on about young Malfoy."

"Actually, I heard from… someone that you had a dragon for a couple weeks a few years ago? During Harry's first year. If so, I think I could do with your help."

"How? If I learn ye have a dragon, I'll have to report you. Even if I escaped conviction last time 'cause it was simply too late, it still got to the ears of the Ministry, and I'd rather not have 'em put me in Azkaban for harbouring 'nother one. Fudge migh' be a bloody idiot, but he has a good memory."

"Nothing that bad, Professor, I promise. Look." Aren carefully opened her pocket, and three blurs of movement zipped past her face, circled the room a couple time, before each choosing a perch somewhere in the room. Bubble was apparently still sulky, her tail lashing back and forth nervously as she sat on the border of a shelf. She'd been let out of the hat a couple hours prior to their visit to Professor Hagrid, but while she hadn't been physically hurt, her dignity had suffered quite a bit.

"Bloody niffler, a-are those baby dragons?" he stammered as Tickle decided that, yes, Hagrid-beard made an excellent perch. "Wai', no. They all 'ave the anatomy of grown dragons… is tha' a Hungarian Horntail? Yes, yes, he — or she, the colouring is more like tha' of a recently matured female — even has the line of tiny spikes all 'long the tail. Brilliant!" he exclaimed, turning sparkly eyes to Aren.

"You don't even know the half of it, Professor, but there are also a couple… issues, I suppose you could say. Mostly there is a lot of in-fighting."

"Not surprising at all, that. Dragons, 'specially the females and even more when they nest, are extremely territorial. They 'have to be, 'cause the eggs are way less resistant than they look. But 'm really curious. How did'ye get them?"

"They're a gift from Luna, for Christmas! She got them from the other champions. Anyway, Toothpick and Bubble keep fighting a lot, though Jade and Tickle are pretty behaved. I just wanted to see if you knew how to… help them get on better?"

"Toothpick and Bubble? Which are they?"

"Bubble is the Chinese Fireball, and Toothpick is the Hungarian Horntail."

"Hmmm… If I had to make a guess, it's 'cause the Welsh Green and the Swedish Short-Snout are more likely to meet each other in their natural habitat. They live close enough, so they've had to learn how to coexist, yeh? Taught them to evaluate other dragons before going in all wands blazing. Chinese Fireballs and Hungarian Horntail though, they never cross each other's path. Actually, I don't think they ever have territorial issues a' all. Might explain why the miniatures are so aggressive, 'cause they don't like seeing other dragons, they're no' used to it."

"Well, it does make sense but is there any way I might make them stop?"

"There're only two ways, like with most dragons: let them get used to it an' hope neither gets eaten by the other, or separate them permanently." He turned to Aren with a mildly hopeful expression. "I could keep one for you?"

"I'm not sure they would let you, Professor. It's already a hassle getting them to stay in my room when I go to class because they never want to leave me alone. I think the only reason they actually do let me go is that I have Ster —you know, my cat— with me and each dragon, individually, gets on quite well with her. Plus they're a gift from Luna and I don't really feel like giving that away."

"Ah, I ge' ye."

The disappointment on the large professor was plain for Aren to see.

"Maybe I could… try to let you keep one during the day? When you don't have class? It's always worth a try. I'll leave Toothpick in the dungeons, and bring Bubble over here tomorrow morning?"

"Bless ye, of course, I would like that! I've always wan'ed a dragon, see, more as a friend than as a pet. Bu' make sure it won't make you late fer classe, alrigh'?"

"Sure, Professor. In the meantime, I'll also try to simply… let them have at it until they figure out a pecking order, I suppose." She got up, and Professor Hagrid gently tugged Tickle out of his beard to lay her in Luna's waiting hands. The older girl immediately lifted her hands to the top of her head, and the little dragon was happy to jump on top of it to nest in Luna's hair. "See you tomorrow, Professor!" Aren chirped out when she saw everyone was ready to leave.

"See ye tomorrow, Aren."

* * *

Getting to leave with Bubble in the morning was… an adventure. Toothpick was positively murderous with jealousy because apparently, she thought Aren was leaving with Bubble to go to class without her. Or something. Bubble had managed to look smug —the question was how a tiny artificial dragon could do that— while sitting on Aren's shoulder.

That had also turned sour very fast when Bubble had understood that yes, she was to stay with Hagrid and no, Aren was not staying with her. Hagrid made a passing remark about the fact that while they looked and somewhat behaved like adult dragons, they apparently had the emotional needs of newborns. Aren was Mom. Flying snakelings were meant to stick to their mom. Aren had made her way to class in a daze. She was nine and a half, and she already had four dragon children. That kept her snickering till she got to classes, where Luna was waiting near the door to the Arithmancy classroom.

The older girl was staring at the ceiling with a blank face, but she was much paler than usual. Not wanting to bring attention to the fact that her best friend was feeling off, she gave Luna a soft nudge with her thoughts. She had just started testing it with her father and was getting quite proficient… with him. Luna was sensitive enough, however, to be able to feel her and let her in.

Aren couldn't help her gesture of recoil. There was tar flowing everywhere, not only on the ground in a cold muddy puddle like usual —she had held hands with Luna to fuse the bubbles once, and Aren had felt what it was to live with Luna's 'gift' for a few hours— but down the walls and from the ceiling. It actually dripped from between the stones forming the arches above their heads, like there was too much somewhere up there and the floor couldn't contain it all. From time to time, something that looked like a large bubble would appear and grow, grow, grow, until it was about to pop, and it did so slowly, in stringy strands that made them look like tiny, anguished mouths screaming.

She flinched out of Luna's head immediately, who turned towards her and smiled tiredly. Aren could see now the dark shadows under her eyes, and she could still feel some of Luna's nausea clinging to her own senses. The tar was strong enough to eat at Luna's bubble, apparently.

Aren immediately turned and started pounding on the door, until finally their Arithmancy professor, Mrs Septima Vector, opened the door with a potent frown on her face which softened immediately upon seeing the Headmaster's ward.

"Miss Dumbledore, why are you trying to take down my door a good…" she looked at one of her three wristwatches "seven minutes before the beginning of class?"

"I'm sorry, Professor, but Luna is feeling really sick right now, I just wanted to let you know I was taking her to the infirmary."

"Very good, Miss, but come back immediately. Today is about—"

"Polynomial function and wand movement, yes, I know. You told us last week and I finished the book, Professor. I'm staying with Luna."

"But—"

"Thank you, Professor."

She grabbed Luna's hand and gently but firmly tugged at her until she followed, and they made their way slowly to the infirmary.

* * *

Aren was still holding Luna's hand in the late afternoon. The blonde girl had been asleep for most of the day, after Poppy had seen her dilated eyes and her haggard expression. Aren had explained what Luna was going through as well as she could without outing Luna's ability, and the matron had immediately whipped out a dreamless draught and a headache reducing potion, as well as an unknown brew supposed to stabilise the heartbeat. Apparently, Luna had wanted to shut the tar out so bad that she had gone into a sort of spontaneous shock, and her heart had considerably slowed down as a side effect.

Her heart was back to beating normally now, Aren made sure of it by regularly sticking her ear to the lower edge of Luna's ribcage. She was now pondering what Luna had seen. By memory, above them had been Professor Moody's quarters. It was hard to tell, though, because Professor Vector liked changing classrooms regularly —usually every week— following this or that calculation she had made. Aren had yet to have the class in the same room twice.

The little Slytherin's thoughts were interrupted by a yawn, just as she could hear Professor Hagrid's loud steps coming towards the infirmary. His head popped through the doorway a few seconds later.

"I just heard wha' happened this morning from Septim— Professor Vector, and thought you wouldn't be able ta pick up Bubble, so I brought her here. Is Luna doin' better?"

"A bit. Being away from so many people and able to rest probably help, but Poppy says we can't be sure it isn't just because of the potions or if she naturally relaxed, so we'll see when she wakes up. Poppy also said that it'd be better to let her do that naturally, so we're just waiting now, and I'm staying with her."

"Oh. Can I keep ye company for a bit then?"

"Hmmm. Sure, sure. So how was Bubble today?" She was surprised the little monster hadn't jumped into her face the moment Hagrid stepped into the room, actually.

"Brilliant, it was! I didn't have that many classes today, so I gave 'er some exercise and helped her make a tiny nest under my kitchen table. She stayed on my shoulder through all of the afternoon's classes too, although she was a bit twitchy by the end of it."

"That's… way better than I expected. Would you mind if I brought you Toothpick tomorrow? She was jealous as hell this morning so it'd be good for her to see what's going on, I think."

"Language, Aren. and for sure you can. I love dragons. Here, let me give you back the little fury." The professor lifted his hair off one of his shoulders, to reveal a curled-up Bubble happily dozing off. He took her in one of his gigantic hands, where she fit neatly, before softly depositing her in Aren's nap. The little reptile sleepily raised her head, gave a soft nibble to Aren's free thumb next to her, and went back to sleep.

"Well, I'll let you all rest then. I have a couple more ideas to help you with your dragons, so come over some time so I can explain. And remember to go to sleep at some point, you still have to get up tomorrow."

"Sure. Thank you—" as if to prove the man's point, she let out a huge yawn; "—thank you for your help, Professor. See you tomorrow. I'll bring Toothpick."

She never heard his response, because she simply lay her head on the bed, and everything went dark.

* * *

The next day, before going to pick up Toothpick at Professor Hagrid's, Aren went back to that week's Arithmancy classroom. They were in the defence wing alright… but there were many classrooms (most of which were empty) and quite a few accommodations. And that was without taking Hogwarts' magic into account: the castle liked making it seem like there were more than three dimensions to her hallways.

(The castle felt distinctly like a she, but Aren could not say why. It was curious, especially with Aren's tendency to shy away from gendering at first sight.)

She took a chance when she saw the Fat Friar leisurely pass her by.

"Sir! Sir Friar!" The ghost turned his plump face towards her.

"Oh dear! I don't believe we've had the chance to talk before. Who- Ooooooh, you're the little snake the Headmaster adopted? Arianne… Aline?"

"Aren."

"Aren! Nice to meet you, young girl." The man went to grab her hand for a shake, but of course, his hand went right through hers, leaving Aren with the feeling that she'd been splattered with half-frozen nose mucus. (Philip had spectacular sneezing fits in winter.) "What can I do to help you?"

"I just wondered… Do you know what classroom is above this hallway?"

"Well, I don't since it changes so often, but I can definitely check." He zoomed to the ceiling, disappearing through it to the waist before he quickly floated back down. "At the moment it seems to be a transfiguration classroom."

Damn, there went that.

"And is there a way to know what was there yesterday?"

"Oh, probably. You could go to the Headmaster and ask him, of course, but I'll tell you something: go to the hallway leading to the divination tower. If the tapestry between the fourth and fifth window is a unicorn, yesterday was a defence day for this wing. If it's someone looking like a Greek divinity, it was already a transfiguration classroom yesterday, although I believe it's not used much anymore besides for independent practice. If the tapestry between the fourth and fifth window is a unicorn, it was a defence day for this wing."

"How do you know that?"

"Hogwarts likes switching things up, you know, but when you've lived… I mean, when you've been around for as long as I have, you pick up on some things she likes to repeat." The monk seemed mildly smug, and kept patting his stomach.

"I… see." That would be worth investigating later. "I'll go look for the tapestry now. Thanks a lot, sir!"

"You're welcome! And pass along my greetings to the Baron, I haven't seen him in a while!"

* * *

The tapestry was that of a unicorn, a rather ornate one at that. That was in no way definite proof, but it was a start: the tar had probably come from the defence wing, and therefore from their current professor, Alastor Moody. That was enough of a reason in Aren's book to be wary of him, and she resolved to go back to Luna as soon as she had picked up Toothpick.

* * *

Once that was done, she was climbing back to the castle from the professor's house, the small dragon making happy, lazy little circles around her shoulders, when she heard something like a sizzle coming from the forest. At first, she thought she had heard one of the branches of the Whomping Willow cracking and had misinterpreted the sound, but Toothpick immediately landed on her arm and clung to her sleeve, her piercing little eyes staring in a different direction than that of the violent tree.

Aren knew how to do a lot of things children her age usually didn't know how to do; controlling her own curiosity and suspicion, however, was not one of these things. She started walking in the direction Toothpick was staring at, the dragon's tiny claws still gripping her robes fiercely; the artificial pet kept looking towards something that the Slytherin couldn't hear, even when said child went off-course, effectively acting like a sort of radar.

Just as Aren was starting to pick up on two voices, one of which was extremely familiar, she heard footsteps going away from her, apparently towards the castle, at a fast pace. She started running, but didn't make it in time before she could see a flash of red and a shout —the one voice that had not left— and then another sound and the smell of blood —a stab— and finally the smell of burnt flesh.

Aren immediately collapsed to her knees, breathing by the mouth to keep from smelling that. She kept repeating to herself one of the mantras for self-control her father had taught her, ironically taken from one of the books he had read as a teen.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer…

She lost track of time, which could have ended very poorly considering someone was apparently disposing of a corpse (or several) nearby, until there were steps going towards where the light had come from. She heard screaming— and unknown voice— and then—

"Hagrid, no!" That was Albus's voice, a voice she knew, a safe voice but it sounded fiercer than she'd heard it in a long time. Memories of a cell, Aurore being almost fired… She heard his voice some more, but could not make out the words.

She then heard that stranger-voice again, speaking in a language she didn't know, and a younger voice answering the same way. These two voices were getting closer… Headmaster Karkaroff and Viktor Krum passed her by, not noticing her where she was curled up in the roots of a century-old birch. Once they were out of her hearing range, she felt a light weigh get off her neck and saw a hazy spot of pitch black flying back to where the two Durmstrang visitors had come from.

"—en's dragons! What is it doing here?" Albus, again. Safe. The sound of footsteps again, two sets of them, rushing towards her, and then arms cloaked in black robes curling around her.

"Aren, you're safe, you're okay, please breathe for me. Shhhh, breathe." Her head on his chest, and a heartbeat, a bit erratic. Not from the run. "You're safe with family, Aren. It's the end of may 95, and you're on Hogwarts ground. Breathe with me, child." The smell of potion ingredients, and the faint undertone of sweat that came from exertion rather than heat. A curtain of straight black hair drifting before her eyes. And a heartbeat, steadier now, steadying her at the same time.

Papa.

* * *

It took Aren a whole thirty minutes to go down from her flashback, and even then it was impossible to detach her from her father. Albus and Severus both suspected she was using accidental magic to stick herself to him; instead of fighting it, Severus disillusioned both himself and his daughter, and he walked back sedately to the dungeon, both because it was hard to walk with a child melded to your side, and because he didn't want to ignite her panic again.

He'd very briefly considered bringing her back to her 'private' room, the one that some of the other Slytherins knew of, but had dismissed the idea within that very same thought. Aren was shaken and terrified, most probably of herself if he knew her at all, and it was out of the question for him to risk having the little girl think that he, too, was scared of her. The real surprise was that, when they reach the potion master's quarters, Aren finally looked up to stare at Severus.

"Father, can I please go check on Luna, please? I was going to go to her after I picked up Toothpick. She's in danger. She… I don't want to leave her alone. Please."

"You can definitely check on her, yes. Curfew is in another couple hours. Do you wish for me to come with you to the Ravens' tower?"

"Yes, please." She reluctantly let go of him, knowing that she couldn't afford to let students see her glued to the professor's side like a leech, and they quickly made their way to the Ravenclaw tower. They didn't even get to slam the knocker against the panel of the door, because it opened before they could even touch it, and a panicked Luna threw herself at Aren.

"You're safe! Are you alright? I felt the thing again and it was even worse, and you smell like burnt steak and dirt, did you get attacked by lava gnomes? You're all filtered again I can't see you like normal!"

"I'm okay, Luna. F- Professor Snape found me. I just… I figured out some of what happened yesterday and you're not safe and-" she turned to Severus, "we have to keep her with us."

Severus looked at his daughter and the young Lovegood —who looked as terrified as Aren had been, if not more— and took a deep breath, held it in for a couple seconds before blowing it out.

"I am sure I will regret turning this into a slumber party but alright. Miss Lovegood can come with us." He turned to the older girl, "take what you absolutely need for tonight, and we will get back to my quarters."

She obtemperated without a word, and before he could really realise what was happening, he was transfiguring Aren's single bed into a larger one that could fit the two girls. He made sure to give both of the girls a Dreamless Sleep potion, and once he was sure they were both properly settled in for the night, he left the room with the door slightly ajar and made his way to his own room, grabbing a Potion&Brewers periodical as he went, to read. He'd have a lot to take his mind off of before he would be able to sleep.

He changed into a more comfortable, sleep-appropriate get up, and settled on top of his bed. He made a brave attempt at actually reading the periodical, but his mind kept going back to Aren in the wood, earlier that evening. Had she been there all along? Could she possibly be a witness to what had transpired with Barty Crouch? That made her a potential target, and damn, there was no way he would ever manage to sleep knowing that.

* * *

He was proven wrong at two in the middle of the night when he was woken up by a scream.

* * *

 **A/N:** Aaaaand after three months of absence (for my defence, I'm in an internship at the moment and half-dead when not working), I finally got over that damn block! I have come to the conclusion that I much more apt at writing angst and dislocated thoughts than... normalcy. That's going to be a fun ride.

Next (in theory) is the third task! Shit is going down, fam, so hold on tight to your brooms. ( ∂ v ∂ )/


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** I would make excuses for the (very) slow updates, but I have none that doesn't boil down to 'depression is a bitch, work is tiring and writing is hard'.

I haven't abandoned the story (nope nope) but I have beef with some of it that somehow justifies a complete re-writing to my absurd brain, so I'm also doing that in parallel. I'm trying to slowly build backlog on that before I start posting it though, and I'm working on advancing this version at the same time. Which is probably not my smartest idea but eh.

A warning for passing mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, more as a general theoretical discussion than anything else. Luna and Aren are the nerdiest nerds to ever nerd, after all.

A bit of French can be found near the end of the chapter; translations are in the endnotes.

That said, I hope you enjoy this long-overdue chapter. Please let me know what you think of it!

* * *

It was, to his surprise, not Aren's voice. It took him a few instants to recall the previous evening, but then he rushed to his daughter's room, afraid that somehow someone might have attacked the girls in his own quarters. He was greeted with the sight of Aren kneeling on the transfigured bed, her blonde friend's head in her lap, pressed against her stomach. He almost didn't notice it for how silent she was keeping herself now, but Miss Lovegood was crying. Aren just kept softly carding her fingers through the older girl's hair, clueless about how to help Luna. Severus half kneeled, half crouched by the bed to be more level with them.

He had to admit that he was just as clueless as Aren when it came to comfort crying preteen girls; his familiarity with Aren and the fact that she was in fact (blessedly) not yet in her teens helped a fair amount, and even that was a bit of a trial and error process. Luna was a complete unknown, and he just sat there, confused as to what he could do.

To his relief, Luna calmed herself on her own. Her eyes and nose were a brilliant irritated red when she finally lifted her face off Aren's lap, but the tears had stopped and her breathing was back to a somewhat normal rhythm and depth. The only other clue that something had been wrong was the death grip the girls kept on each other's hand, made evident by the whitening of their knuckles. Toothpick and Bubble had apparently agreed on a truce, and were instead huddled each on one of Aren's shoulders; the other two little flying lizards were nowhere to be seen.

"I'm sorry for waking you up, Professor," Luna whispered. Severus dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"I was under no delusion that I'd have a good night's sleep, Miss Lovegood. My only concern for now is your well-being, both Aren's and yours. What happened?"

Luna made to speak, but Aren interrupted her.

"It's my fault. I had a nightmare and accidentally broadcasted it. You were okay because of your shields but Luna's defences are of another sort, and she was holding my hand… Sorry." Her face laid bare her frustration with what she saw as a weakness of hers.

"As I said, there is no harm done. If nightmares are the cause for this, do either of you wish for a calming draught or a dreamless sleep potion?"

Luna agreed readily with taking a calming draught, and Severus suspected she was still fighting her panic, but Aren frowned and shook her head, refusing without a word. After bringing the potion to Luna, and settling the girls in to resume their nights, he left the room again taking care to keep the door very slightly ajar. Doing so, he noticed that Aren had slipped out of the blankets again and was sitting instead of laying down, her back against the headboard, watching over Luna.

Severus wished he'd gotten her to take a potion too; something told him she wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

The next morning was a mess. Luna had managed to sleep through the rest of the night, and looked well rested if sad. Aren, on the other hand, looked a bit like someone had punched her hard in both of her eyes, and her balance had taken a notable turn for the worse. When she tripped on her own foot a second time, Severus decided to take that as a sign and gently grabbed the child up.

"Alright, young girl. It's Saturday, and you're a disaster on legs. I'm pretty sure you didn't sleep after everyone woke up last night, and I'm not convinced you slept properly before that. You're going back to bed."

The state of tiredness Aren was in was further evidenced by the delay between this declaration and her reaction.

"What? No!"

"And why is that?" He retorted. The child opened her mouth, but he didn't give her the time to speak. "Luna will stay here if that is alright with her, as will I. There is literally nothing planned that would absolutely require your presence, and so you have no reason to force yourself awake."

"But I don't want to sleep!"

The shout, almost a mild screech, gave Severus pause; he knew by now that Aren was more likely to shut down her fears and ignore them, or at least make sure that no one knew of them. That she so readily expressed it just then underlined either her extreme fatigue (nine years old girls were not designed for all-nighters after all) or her extreme fear. Or both.

The problem was that it was not exactly a rational fear, and therefore could not be countered through rational arguments. With Luna still seated at the breakfast table, he gently picked her up and rested her against his hip in an uncharacteristic homely gesture.

"You'll be safe here, Aren; and Luna and I will be safe too. I only ask that you sleep at least two or three hours so that you may manage the rest of the day until supper." Seeing that she still looked worried, he added, "if I were to charm the the couch into something more comfortable, so that you may stay in the living room with us, would you be amenable?"

Aren hesitated a dozen more seconds, before reluctantly nodding. Severus set her down, that she may change out of her uniform and back in her sleep clothes, and applied a couple cushioning and heating charms to the sofa facing the hearth. Considering Aren tended to relax with the sound of flames and that the dungeons were always draughty even when nearing summer, he decided to light a fire; he was just finishing when Aren walked back in, Duister on her heels and Toothpick on her head, offering a stark contrast against her white hair.

Severus helped her settle under a conjured comforter, and since she was too small to occupy the whole length of it, Luna settled at her feet with a tome thick and heavy enough to knock down a grown man. He was not shy, really (and he'd never lived near or in the Nile, thank you), but he still made sure to be discreet as he watched his daughter slowly, finally lose her fight against sleep. Grading fifth year essays was great for that, he supposed.

* * *

Aren ended up sleeping most of the morning, and woke up well past lunchtime; there had been no nightmares, but she still grumbled and glared at her father for not waking her up after 'two or three hours'. They snacked on sandwiches filled with salmon and herbs, and then both girls just settled at a corner of his admittedly very large desk to work on assignments. He'd been focussing on seventh year essays when the sound of soft arguing finally registered, the two girls disagreeing on charm applications. It had to do, apparently, with some of Luna's more outlandish creatures.

"It's a cheering charm . I agree that it's not a cure for depression, but it can't be making things worse !"

"It does! It squeezes the shapes of people's minds, it breaks them into a mould and when they leak out of it, they're wrong . It's not much at once, but it adds and adds and adds. Did you read the bit on the use of cheering charms in the 1800s?"

"Cheering charms were used as a form of cure for depressive and/or suicidal people back then, yes. It seemed to work, till the patients got off the treatment. The suicide rate was of… wait, let me check. Sixty-three percent. Doesn't that show that the cheering charm is necessary though?"

"No. If you look closely, the number of people committing suicide in 1883 is higher than that of suicidal people taken off the charm. That means some of them were not initially suicidal; they were probably diagnosed as depressive. The cheering charm made things worse for them. You could almost compare it to withdrawal symptoms, though much more serious." Luna had her face scrunched up, in a reproving expression that he'd never seen the girl wear before.

"You mean they indirectly killed people with a charm that makes them happy?"

"Yeah. They lose some of themselves with the charm. I saw it in class yesterday; the tar gets thicker and shapeless after each charm."

"That's… ick. Just." Aren shuddered.

"I think that's why professor Flitwick wanted us to limit ourselves to one or two casting per person. That wouldn't have much of a long term effect. A slight gloominess in the evening, at most."

He tuned them out again. By the look of it, what the girls were doing wasn't for any sort of homework, but appeared to be personal research borne out of curiosity; he was curious himself as to what sort of conclusion they would reach, and would probably discuss it with them at dinner. He turned back to correcting the essays, the one he was currently going over an attempt at theoretically modifying the Wiggenweld Potion; it was surprisingly convoluted and was quickly giving him a headache.

* * *

Keeping the girls busy, and especially Aren, until dinnertime was easy enough. So was dinner itself. Trouble itself began arising when Severus started mentioning a bedtime or Luna's return to her dorm. Aren categorically refused a dreamless potion, refused to go to sleep altogether, and she was not as tired as she'd been in the morning; hence her much more vocal protestations.

It was Luna who ended up putting her foot down.

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, Aren, and you know it."

"You're capable of defending yourself against people up to fourth year, Luna, but not fully trained wizards. Something happened in the woods yesterday and I doubt it was the doings of another student."

"That may be right, but in a dorm I'll be surrounded by other students and less of a specific target, and professor Flitwick checks in regularly anyway. And I can charm my curtains to screech. You know that spell George Weasley taught me? It'll help. And if you really, really need me to, I can bring one of the dragons with me? They don't sleep, and they don't like people they don't know. They'll make as good an alarm as any."

Aren was clearly still reluctant, but with both her father and her best friend against her and without disregarding Luna's free will, there was no way out of it; as a result, Luna left about twenty minutes before curfew with a very happy and excited Bubble. Aren sat sullenly on the sofa, her annoyed pout concealing almost completely the loss Severus could read on her face; who would've thought this was how he'd end up using his spying skills? It did give him at least one reason to be glad for them. He let out a silent sigh, before leaving his seat at his desk to join his daughter on the sofa.

"Aren, you know perfectly well that Luna is safe in the tower. Even without the spells and the added presence of Bubble, no one could get in the dorms."

"It's ridiculous, isn't it?" Aren bit out. "That I'm so scared."

"It's not. I am not going to tell you that it's ridiculous or childish; fear is a reflex, and it takes a lot of time and experience to learn to ignore it. In fact, it's probably not the best thing to do, to ignore it. It's a healthy reminder from time to time, to mischievous children." He lightly poked her in the rib, and she giggled in spite of herself. "I'm asking about it because I know that you are struggling with it. Fear is quite often the result of incomprehension or lack of knowledge, of incertitude. I'm offering to help you through that."

Aren stayed silent for a bit, lost in her thoughts, and so he gave her time to sort through them.

"It's… well, the staff and older students, they all tell us that we're safe in the dorms, right? Even you. But Sirius Black got in last year, and that was in a tower that was protected by a password. That should have been a better safety, because it depends on a secret, and not on wit. But anyone can get in Ravenclaw tower, so long as they can answer a question, and that only take intelligence and a bit of creativity, or sometimes even just luck. I get in there often enough, most of the time without Luna's help.

"The person in the wood… they had no trouble at all escaping from me, which is unsurprising, but you too. It's probably not someone lacking wit, to commit murder inside of Hogwarts' wards. What if they got in?"

Snape had not expected that, but it was a valid point, though probably exacerbated by Aren's deep-seated anxiety. It would not do to leave things as they were with a murderer on the loose in the castle again.

"I cannot do much more than that, but I can try and get the other heads of house to summon the house ghosts and get them to watch the entrances. To my knowledge, each house only has a single access point."

"You really believe me?"

"It's not a matter of believing you; this is not you telling me the truth or a lie, it's about you explaining how you feel. I might be the great greasy bat of the dungeon, but I do have quite a bit of experience where the human mind is concerned. Though much less with children your age, I admit. You're allowed to be afraid, kitten, and I hope you'll trust me more with your emotions in general. You shouldn't have to deal with them alone." And in his head, he added, 'things would probably have been wildly different had I not had to do just that during most of my life'.

"Do you think the ghosts will agree?"

"Oh, believe me, they will. They stayed as ghosts because they had concerns for the safety and well-being of the students, after all. I know Sir Nicholas likes to rant about the shoddy job his executioner did, but he really just couldn't bear to part from Hogwarts and the children. He spent a short time as a guard wizard for the castle before the king, Henry VII, recruited him as court wizard."

Aren looked at him with squinty, disbelieving eyes.

"How do you even remember that stuff?"

"Few friends and a lot of books in my childhood; I believe you are familiar with the process, though I was a bit older than you are."

"Oh."

"Now, I should floo to Albus before I forget." He strode purposefully to the hearth, taking care to smother the coals before sprinkling floo powder on the ashes. "Albus Dumbledore's office!" And in two steps, he went through.

He made it back barely ten minutes later, to find Aren crumpled in the sofa, her head leaning on the armrest, one of her feet on the cushions and the other dangling off the edge. He took all of five seconds to contemplate how much more she fit her own age when she slept. It was still not quite right, as she was too small and too skinny despite the (sometimes overbearing) care of Madam Pomfrey; but it was a damn sight better than when she'd gotten to the castle more than a year and a half before.

He picked her in his arms without effort, her light form underlining his thoughts, and brought her to her room. He took care to spell her pyjamas on her, and she only stirred when he tried to lay her down in her bed. She clung to his neck, and he could feel one of her fists bunching the fabric at the back of his robes; he had no choice but to wake her up.

"Aren. Child, let go," he whispered at her. He let go of her with one of his arms, using that hand to try and unclench the little fist clinging to his back. She stirred some more and finally seemed to awake some. "Aren, can you let go?"

"'mmmmmmuh-" She did.

Severus was making sure she was completely covered by her blanket (he was not mother-henning), when Aren looked at him and gave him one of the dopiest smile he'd ever seen on her.

"Papa, d'you call me Kit'n?" But in the few moments it took him to think back on it and confirm that he had, she'd fallen asleep. Oh, well, she'd called him Papa.

That night was a peaceful one.

* * *

Nothing much ended up happening for about a month. Aren was constantly on her guard, and stuck to Luna 'like a leech', in her own words. The tension was slowly mounting in the castle as the third task approached, and Harry looked ever paler, to the point she'd rallied Luna and Ginny to drag him to the infirmary.

The Hufflepuffs as a whole still scorned Harry, though Diggory did all he could to stop the gibe. Ron had made up with him, and Harry had accepted, but things hadn't gone back to how they were before. There was tension, there. Worry that things might go wrong. Again.

The exam revisions went as usual, stress spreading through the student body. The fifth and seventh years were walking nightmares, a few of them devolving into massive anxiety at least once or twice a week; Ginny and Luna found a seventh year Ravenclaw chatting away at one of the plants in greenhouse three like he'd been hit with a confundus charm. Ginny and Professor Sprout brought the boy to Madam Pomfrey, who confirmed it was a breakdown and not the result of a spell; a good night of rest under her watch would help enough that he'd be able to resume classes.

Harry and the other champions were theoretically exempt from exams due to the third task being scheduled right after they ended, but none of the champions took that opportunity. Diggory, Krum and Fleur all had their N.E.W.T.s, or equivalent thereof, to pass and so slacking was not an option; Harry clung to whatever normalcy he could find in his life, and who could blame him if it was exams?

Aren was mildly frustrated with having to stop her french lessons with Luna, Victoire and Fleur, but she understood that they had their own priorities to deal with. The two hogwarts girls still got to chat in French with Victoire, and they all considered it sufficient practice. For the first time, Aren had to actively get into reviewing. Her passing into fourth year was dependant on her results, and she had ingurgitated the worth of two different years in one. It was not particularly difficult, but it was time consuming, and she was glad when the actual exams came around, if only to not have to keep working on the same exercises and reading the same books.

* * *

The third task was boring . You'd think they would have learned their lesson after the first task, what with everyone having to wait, standing in silence for an hour while the champions were hidden by the lake's water. At least this time they weren't standing, but there was still the possibility that it would last longer this time.

Harry and Diggory had been the first to enter the maze, followed by Krum, then Fleur, each after a waiting time of a minute. Beyond that, it was a great stretch of nothing to be seen or heard for about forty-five minutes — until red sparks went over the hedges right before a high-pitched scream echoed through the pitch. It was immediately followed by another scream coming from the front seats reserved for the Champions' families. That one was easier to follow; it was Victoire, who had evidently recognised her sister's voice. A group of three unidentified medi-nurses immediately readied themselves to treat the champion, as Professor Hagrid and another teacher Aren didn't know ran into the labyrinth to retrieve Fleur.

About ten minutes later, red sparks were sent up again and the process began again. This time, Krum was carried out of the maze by Hagrid, unconscious and looking much paler than he usually did. The nurses immediately gathered around them as Hagrid lowered the young man to a levitating stretcher. There was a bit of a fuss, then one of them used a spell on Krum's wand. Immediately, the man ran to the Judges' seats. There was a lot of agitation, and the Judges kept vehemently discussing something even as the nurse ran back to Krum's side.

Finally, by about fifteen minutes past the hour mark, there was a flash at the center of the maze, then a loud noise that sounded somewhat like a church bell. The Judges got up, then, and the Hogwarts professors followed suit. They all seemed to be waiting for something; but nothing came. Albus was growing obviously agitated, though to most people his twitching might pass as enthusiasm rather than worry.

Another five minutes passed, and with nothing more happening, Albus started talking to various people in short sentences, sometimes turning back to another Judge to apparently ask questions, seeing as they were the only ones to actually answer something and weren't just jerking into action like the others did. She noticed that Karkaroff had disappeared sometimes during the task.

Aren, for all of her potential virtues, was someone extremely curious; information meant survival, and she had not shed that particular proclivity upon enrolling in Hogwarts. She whispered a quick ' Going to see Snape ' to Lu and Ginny, before making a beeline through the terraces for the man, who was still standing among the other professors; she did so avoiding a couple knees and accidental elbows, ducking through arms and shoving herself between older (and much taller) students.

She had almost reached him when she saw him brutally jerk before collapsing into his seat, his face scrunched up in an uncharacteristically revealing show of weakness. He clutched at his left arm for an instant, before forcing his face back into its usual scowling expression. He brought his wand out of his sleeve and performed a silent charm over his sleeve, going from the tip of his fingers up until he reached the middle of his upper arm, and finally relaxed in his seat. Then he forced himself back up, using his hands as a support against the bench, or at least attempting to. His right hand did its job, the left hand completely missed the bench.

Only Aren and professors McGonagall and Flitwick had seen any of the scene, thankfully, before her father had been back to his usual self. On the outside, at the very least; she wasn't sure what had just happened.

Just then, a brutal crack that put to mind a tree trunk snapping in two, Harry and Diggory landed on the bit of lawn separating the maze from the seats. Something was wrong; portkeys weren't supposed to make such a sound (or any at all really), and Harry had his arms going around Diggory's ribcage and clinging like his life depended on it. Diggory appeared to be unconscious.

There was a rush, a great fluttering of people trying to do too many thing at once. After a second and a half of stunned silence, the students started whispering at each other and then raising their voices little by little in obviously increasing panic. Albus ran to the two boys down by the portkey, the judges appeared to be arguing once more, and then Professor McGonagall got up, her own wand at her throat.

"Your attention please. All students will immediately go back to the castle. Professors Snape, Sprout, Flitwick and myself will remain here; we ask that all other Professors and of-age visitors please escort the students back to the castle and their respective common rooms. We will come to our respective houses shortly with further news." With that, she removed her wand from her throat and went at a brisk pace to join Albus.

As if I'm going to leave now , though Aren as she went against the sudden flow of people. I still don't know what happened to Papa just there. It was good that she was… adept at bumping into people without their noticing. It allowed her to go mostly ignored as the rest of the students left the pitch in questionable order; although she was mildly afraid of getting inadvertently stepped on to death by the waves of adolescents. She wasn't sure the story she'd heard in Muggle London were true but it was scary enough to keep them in mind in such a situation.

When she had more freedom of movement, but before all the student had left so that she wouldn't be completely exposed, she snuck the rest of the way to the judges' seats and hid under them. She found a way to move a corner of the decorative fabric covering them, so that she could see what was happening on the pitch itself.

Harry had already been separated from Diggory, and the later's parent were kneeling on the ground by his side. His father was leaning slightly back, his face blank and slack. It so completely lacked any emotion that she thought he gave no care for his son at all, until she realised that Diggory's mother was half leaning towards her son, half lifting his torso to hold him against her. She was screaming in-between the sobs that choked her.

They were in shock. They were fighting the reality that Aren, for all the distance and lack of visibility, had already recognised.

Diggory was dead.

* * *

Somehow, she missed Harry having been dragged off until Albus managed to tear his eyes from the 7th year Hufflepuff to notice that the younger boy was missing. He cast a silent a silent spell at the ground, and what he saw was apparently very concerning because he took off again, running much faster than one might imagine a man his age could run. Severus immediately followed and Aren, having no more to observe by the maze, tried to follow as well. Sadly, her shorter legs did not let her catch up to the two men; she lost them early on, and all she knew was that they were most probably in the castle. Considering what she knew of the situation (not much) and Harry's more self-destructive (if unaware) tendencies, she ran ahead to the infirmary instead. Poppy was already working at Fleur and Krum's sides, alternating between them as much as she could. Krum was still unconscious, but Fleur was awake and so she rushed to the french girl's side.

"Fleur! Est-ce-que ça va? "

"Oui, ne t'inquiète pas. Juste un sort mineur de neutralisation, probablement un Stupefy. Je n'ai rien entendu par contre, le sort était silencieux ."

"So you're alright?"

" Je ne sais pas qui m'a eue, mais cette enflure a profité de ma distraction quand j'ai battu une Acromentule. Ca m'a fichu une trouille bleue, je déteste les araignées. J'ai poussé un cri assez humiliant. "

"Who cares about that. As long as you're safe… and Krum?"

"I heard a couple of the people who got him in there. There was some talk about the Crucio , but I didn't catch it all; can't say if he got it or cast it himself."

"Yuck."

"Hmmm. By the way," Fleur added after a minute of silence, "how did you make it here? I heard the… 'staff person'? The school is basically on lockdown, how did you get out?"

"I simply didn't get in. Easy enough, you just have to be a bit sneaky. It is one of my fortés, and my size helps with that, and I used to be a street rat before I got here. I have a lot of practice."

Fleur just let out a non-committal noise that probably meant something along the lines of ' I heard you '. Seeing as Poppy was about to finish with Krum, Aren snuck to the opposite side of Fleur's bed, hoping that the mediwitch would not remember her. Then, she settled in to wait until Harry was brought in.

* * *

 **A/N 2:** The Fronch™:

Est-ce-que ça va? — Are you alright?

Oui, ne t'inquiète pas. Juste un sort mineur de neutralisation, probablement un Stupefy. Je n'ai rien entendu par contre, le sort était silencieux. — Yes, don't worry. Just a minor incapacitation spell, probably a Stupefy. I never heard it though, the spell was silent.

Je ne sais pas qui m'a eue, mais cette enflure a profité de ma distraction quand j'ai battu une Acromentule. Ca m'a fichu une trouille bleue, je déteste les araignées. J'ai poussé un cri assez humiliant. — I don't know who got me, but that scumbag attacked when I was distracted after dealing with an Acromentula. That scared me to death, I hate spiders. That scream was pretty humiliating.


	22. Hey I'm alive

Hi hi, author here !

This is not an update. You might be clued in by the 'new' name, but I'm dropping this version of the story. I haven't managed to write for it for a long (loooooooooooong) time : I see too many flaws in it and I'm not really in the same place I was last year (which I'd consider good), and at this point I'd rather start fresh and proper.*

So!

If you're not done with me yet, I invite you to get to my rewrite, of which the first chapter will be up veeeery shortly under the same name, "Blue Blood".

On that note, whether you choose to keep reading my stuff or not, happy fandoming!

Hay.


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